The Heart is Victor
by IsilAri
Summary: The Third Age, a time when heroes are pulled from the most unlikely places. Such is the case of Arnen. She didn't ask for the gift, but to her it was given. Now, she is on a journey that will reveal her true identity to herself and all of Middle Earth.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: This is the first fanfic I have put up so I am open for ideas.

Disclaimer: I do not I own Lord of the Rings, Tolkien does. I own only characters and beings not recognized from any of his books.

Hên is pronounced Hayn and Arnen is Quenya for 'beside water'

* * *

**Nethig**

_(little sister)_

Golden sunlight poked through the jade leaves to the floor of the wood. Symphonies of birdsong sporadically broke out highlighting the unusual beauty of the morning. The mighty voice of Bruinen conversed with the gentle whispering of the west wind. Elanor and niphredil cast their perfume into the air causing the wooded oasis to shimmer with their sweet scents.

Among the beauty a soul sought solitude. Aragorn, foster-son of Elrond, had returned yesterday to Rivendell from a stay at Lothlórien. That morning, though, it seemed he could not stay focused. Frustrated and distracted, he wandered the woods beside Bruinen. His mind chose to dwell upon the reason for his stay at Lothlórien, Arwen Undómiel. Deep in thought it was a wonder he heard the tiny cry from a small gathering of flowers. Curious, he turned from his path to find the source of the voice.

When he got to the bank of Bruinen he saw under an ancient, sturdy tree that a young child sat crying. Aragorn hesitantly bent over and picked the little one up. He saw it was a girl no more than three-years-old. Her midnight hair was quite full for one so small. A round, golden face streaked with tears looked up at him and she stopped her crying. Aragorn gasped for her eyes were a wonder to behold. Liquid pools of gold rimmed with silver shined with unshed tears. A gurgling laugh escaped from her lips as she smiled happily. Aragorn's heart was immediately taken by the little girl. Kissing the crown of her head he began to gently question her.

"What is your name?" he asked while kneeling before her.

"I don't have a name," she answered with an honest, musical voice.

Aragorn hid his shock and went on, "Where are your parents, child?"

"I don't know," was her quiet reply.

Aragorn was dismayed to hear this news. She had no memory of her name (which was odd to say the least) and she did not know where her parents were. 'Where will I take her? She must be cared for until her parents find and claim her. She can't possibly go with me to Rivendell…or can she?'

Standing, Aragorn took her little hand in his. "How would you like to stay with the elves for a time, little one?"

And the solitary soul left the wood not so solitary anymore.

* * *

_6 months later_

"Hên (child), Lord Elrond has asked that you come to his study," Gilraen said peeking into Hen's room.

Hên, for that is what the elves had begun to call her, took the outstretched hand of Aragorn's mother and walked to the west wing of the Last Homely House. She always loved visiting Lord Elrond because he never was without a story to tell her. They reached Lord Elrond's study and, as usual, she was greeted with a sweeping hug from the noble elf. But when he set her down she noticed that something unusual was present. Well, that is, some others.

Gilraen had stayed; Elladan, Elrohir, Glorfindel, Erestor and Aragorn were all in the room also. Beside Elrond stood a tall, wizened looking man with a long, grey beard. In his hand he held a large staff bearing carvings all along its length; on his head was a blue pointed hat that covered grey hair; grey robes were wrapped around his frame. He seemed pleasant enough for he wore a grin.

'Lord Elrond trusts him enough to let him in Rivendell, so I suppose he is good, Hên thought. Still, she was wary of the old man.

Elrond laughed when Hên ran to Aragorn and hid behind his legs. The girl did not see what was so funny, but she held her temper for once and stayed behind Aragorn's leg.

"This is Mithrandir, a member of the White Council and one of the Istari," Elrond introduced the wizard.

Mithrandir took off his hat and made a sweeping bow. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Lady Hên."

To Hên his voice sounded like a smaller Bruinen was in his chest. She smirked, knowing the only reason he was being formal was to make her smile. Being nudged out by Aragorn, she made her way to the Wizard and curtsied.

"And you, Meth…Methri…Methran…Methrandur."

Everyone in the room burst with laughter. Hên blushed with embarrassment.

"You may call me Gandalf, young one."

"Gandalf," she mumbled.

Elrond calmed everyone down and proceeded with the meeting. He went on to state how Hên's parents had not come to claim her yet, and no one could find a trace of them. After about fifteen minutes of this explanation he told Hên, "Because we have not found your parents, Gilraen would like to adopt you. If you would rather wait and…" He never got to finish his sentence.

"YAY!" Hên screeched in delight. Jumping into Gilraen's arms, she began showering kisses on her face.

Once again Elrond calmed things down and began the ceremony that made Hên someone's child. When it was all finished, Aragorn sat Hên upon his lap and chuckled happily. Pulling her in for a hug, he kissed the top of her head. "Now I understand why I wandered about that day," Aragorn said, "I was meant to find you beside the water, my Arnen. Do you like that name, nethig?"

"Arnen," she repeated.

Everyone in the room had a smile on their face except for Gandalf. For no one else seemed to notice that when Arnen had jumped for joy the crystal on Gandalf's staff alighted for a brief moment. No one else seemed to realize that the rain clouds in the sky had disappeared instantly. No one else seemed to notice that a tree outside of the study window had bloomed suddenly. No one else seemed to have seen the candles spark.

"Gandalf, my friend," Elrond asked once everyone else had left, "what troubles you?"

Slowly Gandalf turned his head from the tree the elf lord. "You are going to have interesting troubles with this child if I do not help you. Interesting troubles, indeed."


	2. Chapter 2

**It's Raining, It's Pouring**

_13 Years Later_

It had not stopped raining since Gilraen's death five days before. Aragorn was torn and sat in his mother's bedroom saying nothing to anyone. Elrond could not comfort him. Elladan, Elrohir, and Glorfindel all failed in lifting their friend's spirit. Gandalf was not overly worried for him because he knew Aragorn would pull through soon.

The person Gandalf was discouragingly worried about was Arnen. Every time she was spotted the girl would run off and hide. She was one of the few who could cheer up Aragorn when he was in such a state, but she was too sad to do anything. With the unending rain, only Gandalf and Lord Elrond knew how depressed she truly was. When her emotions were so strong the control she held over her powers would slip as it was now. Both elf lord and wizard were on a constant watch. But, both elf lord and wizard had underestimated how well Elladan and Elrohir had trained her in the ways of the aloof Rangers.

* * *

Sixteen-year-old Arnen ran along the shores of Bruinen. The river was swollen with the "tears" she had afflicted upon Rivendell for the past five days. She knew Gandalf was either livid or worried that she had not returned to Rivendell for that dreadful potion to help regain control.

'I cannot go back there now. It hurts too much,' she thought.

Arriving at her destination, the grief stricken youth pulled herself up the gnarled tree Aragorn found her under when she was just three-years-old.

Since that day Arnen had grown to be only five foot, five inches tall. Her midnight hair was straight and shoulder length. She was pretty but not beautiful. Those eyes of hers were still extraordinary. The gold and silver shone as if they were alight with fire. They were the only part of her being that could not lie; they reflected her soul through and through. Now, her orbs' lights were drowned in tears. Fresh rainwater and salty tears mingled upon her face. On her favorite branch of the tree she sat weeping for her lost mother. She settled back into where the trunk and the high branch met and thought of her naneth's last days.

Gilraen had told her she was going to die soon; told her to mind Aragorn, Gandalf, and Elrond; told her that one day, a long time in the future, that they would meet where Eru places those of the race of Man who had passed. Arnen sniffed as a brine drop fell from her eye and plopped into the river below.

* * *

'_It is almost time for me to go, child.'_

'_No. Please do not leave me!'_

_Gilraen pulled her daughter into a comforting hug. Arnen laid her head upon her mother's shoulder like she did as a toddler. Begging and pleading for her to stay just a little longer, she cried bitterly._

'_Shhhh. You are almost a woman and do not need me. Please do not make this any harder, my dear Hên.'_

_Arnen lifted up and obediently wiped her face. Taking Gilraen's hand she sat on the bed and waited. Slowly, Gilraen closed her eyes, smiled, and then breathed her last. The sunlight dimmed as Arnen bent over to kiss her mother's forehead._

'_Goodbye, naneth.'_

'_Arnen.'_

'_Naneth?'_

'_Arnen.'_

'

* * *

"Arnen, child, where are you?"

"Gandalf?" Arnen jerked away from her dream state and looked down through the branches. Gandalf was standing below, his cloak and beard soaked. He looked up through the limbs of her tree. Spotting her, he beckoned, "Climb down, now."

Her decent was slow with reluctance. Silently the apprentice tried to stop the rain; but the moment she loses control it takes time to regain her grip. Once she hit the ground Arnen bowed her head ready for the oncoming scolding. Something happened, though, that she did not expect. She felt a pair of strong arms wrap around her shoulders. The wizard had not hugged her in a long time, which only contributed to the pleasantness of the surprise. A feeling of comfort and love spread throughout her being. It was like a warm fire for her rain-chilled spirit. She nestled her head into his chest. His cloak smelled like pipe-weed and trees. The hug reminded her of naneth. This time new tears did not come, instead a faint smile brightened her eyes. Pounding rain turned into a soft drizzle and sunlight began to peek through the storm clouds.

Sensing her temperament had changed Gandalf studied her at arms length. His façade was one of doubt. To reassure him Arnen stood up straight and put a sweet smile upon her face. Gandalf smiled back, shaking his head in disbelief.

'She will never change.'

Arnen's teacher reached into a pocket of his grey cloak; when his hand retreated from within, a small vial came out also. Lapis blue liquid inside the crystal carrier jumped with tiny lights. Removing the cork Gandalf held it out for his apprentice to take. Arnen wrinkled her nose but slowly drank the horrid draught. Under instruction from Gandalf, Arnen lowered the waters of Bruinen. Once that task was complete, she gratefully leaned on his shoulder as they made their way back to the Last Homely House.


	3. Chapter 3

**Attention: **I have just revised this. Fanfiction cut out some of the paragraphs I typed due to technical problems, but I have fixed the problem. (8/25/07)

**A/N:** I will try to put more chapters up more frequently. Thank you so much to those of you who reviewed. Your words of encouragement help. Flames will not be heeded. If you don't like, don't read.

There are 11 more years left before the year Frodo begins his journey. In this chapter we will see a close relationship between Aragorn and Arnen. Enjoy! R&R please.

* * *

**Cinnamon and a Ring**

"It is good to have you back, Arnen," Lord Elrond smiled kindly. He motioned to two maidservants walking past his study. "Linde and Irima, ready Lady Arnen's chambers and lay out fresh garments for her."

They bowed then left to do as told. Closing the study door after them, Elrond eyed the young woman who sat beside Gandalf soaked to the bone. Sighing, he made his way over to the chair to the right of Arnen. Taking her hand into his he looked into her eyes. Sadness was still present, but not as severe as what he had seen during Gilraen's funeral. Searching deeper he found loneliness.

Arnen did not squirm under his deep, penetrating stare. She was accustomed to the way he searched. It was a gift she herself tried to master under his guidance; yet she couldn't succeed. He had taught her many things about the past, prophecies, spells, and subjects of that nature. When she wasn't with Gandalf learning, she was normally with Elrond. Thinking all these thoughts, she patiently waited for him to speak.

"Now," he began softly, "how do you fare?"

Arnen almost rolled her eyes, but she knew he was being sincere. 'Atar knows what it is like to lose both his mother and father…in a sense.'

Sighing, she spoke to Elrond for the first time in a week. "It hurts."

"Yes, it will for a time. But your gift, child. How do you feel physically? I need to know."

"I feel alight. I am a bit tired, though."

"Then go and sleep. This has been a hard week."

Arnen smiled softly and rose to leave. Elrond stood and kissed her on the forehead. "Be at peace, Arnen."

"Thank you, atar."

Just as she was about to leave the study, Gandalf called out. "Arnen, remember to go to your brother once you awaken. He will need you."

For the first time since she ran from the fortress Arnen thought about Estel. Overcome with guilt for forgetting her elder brother she ran out of the study. She did not go to her room but instead went to the chamber of her naneth. Standing silently outside of the doors she pressed her ear against the cool cherry wood. Not a sound came from the room. He was in there, though, she was certain. Opening the door she hesitated. She had not been inside the room since her mother died. Taking a deep breath she entered the room.

The air smelled of eglantine, Gilraen's favorite flower. Laced among the floral scent was cinnamon.

'Naneth loved the way cinnamon smells.' Arnen smiled at a distant memory.

* * *

'_Nana, what is this powder?' seven-year-old Arnen asked. Reaching into a crystal bowl on her mother's vanity she fingered the brown substance inside. Taking her hand out, she licked the sweet smelling matter on her fingers. Instantly, she regretted doing so. Screwing up her face she attempted to spit the horrible taste from her mouth. Gilraen laughed merrily at the child's discovery of her favorite spice._

'_That, my child,' she said to the sputtering girl, 'is cinnamon.'_

'_Cimanon,' Arnen tried the word._

'_No. Cin-na-mon. I place a little of it in water each day. Then, I use the water to cleanse my hands.' She held out her palm. Arnen came forward and place he little nose on the outstretched hand; she breathed in deeply. The sweet and spicy smell of cinnamon tingled her senses._

'_Mmmm,' she giggled cheerfully, 'cimanon.'_

* * *

"Cinnamon," she whispered. 

"Her favorite," Aragorn's voice made her jump.

Looking towards the window she saw him sitting in a green velvet armchair. He looked worn and weary. His beard had grown out. Drawing closer she saw his eyes were red, from lack of sleep or crying she did not know. Arnen pulled the wooden stool from Gilraen's vanity beside Aragorn. Neither spoke for a while but looked out the window, each with their own thoughts. Arnen worried about Aragorn while Aragorn thought about his mother's last words to him.

* * *

'_Come here, son,' Gilraen whispered._

_Aragorn knelt by her bedside. Gilraen reached out and stroked his hair._

'_You were too young when your father died to remember him, were you not?'_

_He knew the question was not meant to be answered._

'_Now, you look just as he did, apart from your eyes. Those eyes are my grey.' She smiled. 'Aragorn, you have grown to be an honorable man. Already you have earned the respect of many…'_

'_The choice of my path…'_

'_Is not,' Gilraen stopped him, 'and never really was a choice at all. Your destiny has been set in stone. You must take up the crown, or I fear all will be lost for the race of Men.' _

_The urgency in his mother's eyes stilled him into silence. She had never spoken with him upon this subject with such force._

'_Your life is no longer your own, my son. Prepare for what is to come.' As she said this, the dying woman pulled a leather thong from around her neck. She opened the small pouch that hung at the end of the cord._

'_Hold out your hand, Aragorn son of Arathorn, heir to the throne of Gondor.' Her voice had become stronger._

_Holding out his right hand, palm up, he awaited the gift. Gilraen turned his hand over and placed upon his middle finger a ring. Intertwining silver dragons created the thick band about his finger. In the center of the base of his middle digit their gaping mouths met and there sat a glimmering emerald. He marveled at the detail of the dragons' scales and the brilliance of the gem._

'_Your father was never without this ring. It belonged to his father and his grandfather and his great-grandfather all in turn. The first bearer of this ring was Elros-Tar-Minyatur, the brother of Lord Elrond, the first king of the Numenoreans. It has been passed down to the heir of the throne when the time has come for him to take his place as king. So, take this ring, Aragorn, as a memory of your duty, your people, your kin, your father, and me._

* * *

A single tear slipped down his cheek. He was startled when a white handkerchief wiped the drop from his face. Turning toward Arnen he blinked as he tried to place who she was. Slowly he drew himself out of his mind and remembered his sister. "You are soaked. Where have you been, nethig? You had us all so worried." 

"I am sorry, Aragorn. I just could not…I did not…I…," her voice trailed off as tears threatened to pour again.

Aragorn pulled the gasping youth into his lap. For a time the two shared only silent sobs, but the tears began to subside. Maybe if they had done that days ago they would have been in better condition. Slowly, melancholy gave way to mirth. Arnen chuckled between sniffs causing Aragorn to laugh. Soon, brother and sister were laughing aloud. Neither knew or cared to know what the reason was for this sudden change, instead they basked in their happiness.

When their laughter calmed Arnen answered his question, "I went to E-ngaladh."

Aragorn shook his head in amusement. "I'll never understand why you are constantly drawn to that tree."

Arnen stood up and walked to the deep red doors. "That makes two of us. Freshen up. Everyone is anxious to see if you are still alive."

* * *

Well, Arnen is healing from this blow quite nicely. As you have probably figured out, Arnen has named the gnarled tree E-ngaladh (the tree). Yes, it is simple, but that makes it easier to remember. By the way, eglantine is a real flower in Middle-Earth. It is a sweet smelling, wild rose. Review and I will update. 


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: **This chapter takes place in the year 3008 of the Third Age. It is a year after Gilraen has died and Arnen is now seventeen. Gandalf has returned to Imladris for another visit. Elladan and Elrohir have also come for a while. Coincidence or planned…hmmm.

Well, here it is.

* * *

**Eavesdropping**

Arnen fought with herself while she looked at the dress laid out for her. It was beautiful. She loved it, in fact; that was the problem. She was not the most graceful maiden when donning a dress. Her feet would trip on the skirts or the hem would somehow become torn and dirty.

'The longer I sit here, the less I will want to wear it,' she thought.

Slowly she took off her robe and slipped into the velvet dress. It was deep amber with gold trim on the hem and neckline. Graciously the maidservants chose one without bell sleeves. Those always seemed to get in her way. A simple gold chain hung around her waist and cloth slippers encased her feet. Arnen contemplated her appearance in a long mirror. Her skin appeared to glow due to the hue of the gown. Shaking her head in amazement she mumbled, "The way elves have an artistic eye never ceases to astound me."

She pulled her shoulder length hair into a tight bun. Anor spilled a few of her golden rays in through Arnen's western window. The sudden gleam reminded Arnen that she had a dinner to attend. Rushing from the room, she clumsily ran to Lord Elrond's private dining hall. As soon as she stepped into the room she knew she was late. They all stopped eating and stood, for everyone present was male, when she approached the table. Arnen bowed her head to hide the flaming upon her cheeks and hurried to her seat between Estel and Glorfindel.

Muffled chuckles sounded to her left. Quickly she sent a death glare to Elladan and Elrohir. This only encouraged the twins' laughter. Grumbling viciously she sifted through her mind to think of a way to get them to howl in pain instead. A smirk spread upon her face as she thought of the perfect spell. Someone cleared their throat which made Arnen shake from her scheming reverie. Her eyes met Lord Elrond's. With a bit of amusement he shook his head indicating he knew where her mind was going, and that she was not to do anything to draw attention to herself.

'Damn it,' she whispered in her mind.

The meal was finished and all moved to the Hall of Fire to speak of pressing matters. Upon entering Arnen tripped and would have fallen if it was not for Aragorn. Righting herself, she turned to kick the stool that had obstructed her path. To her surprise – and amused delight – the "stool" let out a stream of quiet curses as it picked itself up.

"Why, dear Bilbo, you must remember to speak when others enter the room," Arnen joked. "Some might mistake you for a tree stump you are so still and small, if it was not for the fact we are inside."

Bright eyes looked up at the lady before them from behind shaggy grey bangs. "Tree stump indeed," he huffed merrily. "Ya' ain't much bigger than I am, young sprout."

Their barbs would have continued if Elrond had not come towards them. Bilbo Baggins did not have to be told his time had come to depart. Bowing out graciously, he gave Arnen a wink.

"Good evening, fair maiden, tell ya' trip again."

'Indeed,' she thought dryly. The "fair maiden" turned to join the man, wizard, and elves by the fire when she noticed that Lord Elrond still stood beside her. Shadows flicked across his face as the fire danced in the hearth, so she could not clearly see what his eyes would explain. Without saying a word he gesture gracefully at the door and inclined his head to her. Realization dawned on Arnen: he wanted her to leave as well. Feeling rather foolish, and indignant, she bowed. When Elrond closed the door lightly behind her, she found Bilbo outside of the door. He was laughing at her…but what else was new?

"Halfling," she flung at him.

"Do not be upset with me, Lady. I am not the one who kicked you out."

Arnen glared down at the snub of a being, "I was not kicked out. He just…kindly showed me to the door."

"Right," Bilbo laughed as he went to his room.

Arnen sulked by the door a bit longer. Just as the young woman was about to walk away, she became suddenly curious as to the reason why Elrond made her leave. Sitting on the floor to get a little comfortable she pressed her ear to the door. At first she could not hear anything but murmurs, then her ears adjusted and she could hear the council being held.

"_I fear that Sauron's forces are growing stronger, as is he. Soon the Dark Lord will put forth a greater search for the One Ring,_" Gandalf's voice was the first to break through.

Arnen froze. She should not have been listening to this but could not pull herself away.

"_But during the Council, Mithrandir, did Curunir not say that the Ring has passed down the Anduin to the Sea? How then, do you suppose, the Enemy will retrieve It if we cannot?_"

Searching her mind, Arnen recognized the name Curunir as one the elves had given to the White Wizard men called Saruman.What council Elrond spoke of she did not know. Turning her thoughts toward the council at hand, she continued to listen.

"_I am not sure if that was entirely true, Elrond. I hate to doubt my friend, but I have a growing suspicion that the Ring is closer than that…Much closer, in fact._"

"_You are not saying that it is in the…_" Lord Elrond was cut off.

"_I am just making an educated guess. That is why I have come here and have gone to many other places, to gather all the information and clues I can. What I truly need, and still have not found, is the creature Gollum._" Gandalf's voice became sad for a moment, "_I pray that my searching will not prove me right, for the sake of my dear hobbits._"

Arnen nearly gasped, but covered her mouth quickly.

'What does he mean, "for the sake of the hobbits"? _It_ isn't in the Shire, is it?'

Her thoughts began to tumble over each other. She entirely missed what Glorfindel, Erestor, and Lord Elrond said in their turn but began to focus again just as Elladan spoke.

"_Elrohir and I return to the Wild soon. If in any way we can help, Mithrandir, we are more than willing._"

"_I am also willing to give you my assistance again as well,_" Aragorn interjected.

'Oh you are, are you? And what I about me, damn it?' she thought angrily. Arnen could not believe he was going to leave again to go gallivanting across Middle Earth to only Eru knows what end.

Gandalf spoke again, "_Thank you. Elladan and Elrohir I will need you to alert the Dúnedain that the watch is to be strengthened around the Shire. Aragorn I need you to assist me in another matter…again. We must leave as quickly as we can._"

It took Arnen a few moments before she realized that the meeting was over. She jumped to her feet, but immediately regretted doing so when an uncomfortable prickly feeling spread through her legs. Wincing, the young woman ran to the southern end of the corridor and hid behind the corner. When she was certain that the male voices were finally faded enough for her to move she crept back down the hall. Just as she passed the Hall of Fire a voice called out, "And where do you think you are going, Hén?"

Arnen froze, knowing she was caught. Entering the hall she sat down on a stool beside Elrond. Aragorn, Gandalf and he were the only ones left in the room. The youth mentally chided her self for not realizing that she had not heard steps going down the corridor.

'They were all elves. And obviously I would have heard Aragorn and maybe even Gandalf as they walked.'

She sat there waiting for…well she did not know what she waited for but knew something was coming.

"I believe you want to say something," Elrond said.

Now that was not what she had expected. Did he want an apology? Looking at his eyes, she knew that was not it.

'Do I really want to say something?' Sure enough, Arnen answered her own question.

"I am going to leave with them." She said those words with such determination Aragorn did not doubt he heard her correctly.

"You are what?" It was more of an exclamation than a question. Aragorn's face showed his disapproval, and dismissal, of what she had said.

"I-am-leaving-with-you," she repeated calmly.

Before Aragorn could say…or cry out…anything else, Elrond stopped him with a raised hand. The exasperated brother silenced himself and watched his sister. Did she truly believe he was going to allow her to go? The girl was still just that, a girl. She had never been outside of Imladris, beside the day that he found her. Where he had to go was not a place for her to be following. Aragorn looked to Gandalf and Elrond for support.

Both the elf and wizard were in a silent conversation. When it was apparent to Arnen and Aragorn that they had finally come to an agreement they tensed, for different reasons of course. Arnen wanted desperately for them to allow her to leave, for she felt that it was time to venture outside of Rivendell. She had slowly become restless staying here, especially since Bilbo came. He told such wonderful stories about the journeys he had had and the life he had led. The way the green grass of the Shire was always littered with hobbits having picnics and little ones frolicking. Then the story about his adventures with the dwarves was one she never tired of hearing (and he never tired of telling either). There was always a hesitance when he reached certain parts, like how he came upon the ring that made him invisible. She never pried, but now she began to wonder about the connection Bilbo might have with this secret meeting.

"Arnen," Gandalf addressed her, "you shall travel with Elladan and Elrohir. But, if you truly want to stay with them you must learn how to defend yourself." His eyes sparkled as he thought, 'In other ways.'

Aragorn opened his mouth to say something but was silenced by Elrond's hand once more.

"I entrust you to the care of my sons. As Gilraen left me as your guardian I have decided it is time for you to go about." Elrond looked at Aragorn while he spoke to Arnen; and then fixed his grey orbs upon her sternly, "But, you are to do as they say until Aragorn joins them. Understood?"

Arnen nearly fell over when she heard his consent. She stood so abruptly that her stool knocked over, and she hugged Elrond tightly. Aragorn got up and left the room. The ecstatic youth missed his retreat entirely. Gandalf was the next to receive a near bruising hug. He grumbled good-naturedly and hugged her in return. He smelled strongly of pipe-weed, she noticed. He must have been thinking a lot lately on troubling matters. When she returned to her stool a serious air fell upon the pair before her. She knew what was coming, but beat them to it.

"I know. I will be in more danger out there than here if my powers are found out. I will do all I can to hide them, but I must practice," she looked at them questioningly.

Gandalf reached into the deep pocket of his cloak that seemed to hold a never ending amount of things and pulled out two items. One was a vial the length of her hand and the width of her pinky, ring, and middle digits containing more of that horrible lapis hued liquid. Arnen wrinkled her nose causing Gandalf to chuckle.

"Do I really-"

"Yes you do," he replied softly but sternly.

Arnen took the vial from her master and awaited the second gift, hoping it would be better than the first. In Gandalf's hand she saw he held a velvet bag with his rune woven on the front. The Grey Wizard handed her the bag and nodded for her to open it. When she did, Arnen gasped. Inside were ten of his crystals – which he used for numerous things – in various sizes. These were a precious gift for him to give.

"Gandalf, I…" she was at a loss for words.

"Use them for practice, child. But, be very careful. I do not want another explosion to occur."

Arnen remembered very well what explosion he spoke of. It had been a summer day in Imladris and Gandalf was visiting again. They had gone to a secluded area in the forest when he showed her how to use the crystals. Once it was her turn to try, something had broken her focus. Without warning Gandalf pulled her away from the clearing and turned to deal with the fracturing crystal. But he was too late. The explosion it caused would have disintegrated all the trees in a five meter radius if Gandalf had not put up a shield and saved three meters of that five (as well as he and Arnen). It was not funny then but it was now, even though Arnen's ears still twitched at the boxing they received that day.

She resealed the grey pouch and smiled with thanks. Involuntarily, she yawned. Elrond stood her to her feet and walked her back to her room. Before she opened the door, he spoke, "Arnen, child."

The tired young woman looked up at the regal elf. Elrond realized how small she was and prayed to Eru that he had made the right decision. "Pray do as you know you should. Let your brothers protect you, do not fight them. They know more of how the world is out there than you do."

'And I hope it will ever be that way,' he added to himself.

"I will, atar. I will do as you ask, it is the least I _can_ do."

Arnen stood on her tiptoes and gave Elrond a peck on the cheek. When she entered her chambers Elrond walked back to the Hall of Fire.

"To what end have we sent her, Mithrandir?"

Gandalf looked up from the fire and contemplated this question.

"I do not believe we send her to an end, my friend, but to the beginning of her destiny. The question we should be asking is what is her destiny?"

The two ancient beings sat together by the fire both thinking of what was to become of the child with no clear past and a future neither could guess at.

* * *

It was longer than I thought it would be. Oh well. What do you think? It is not the best I could have done but… Please review to let me know. Until next time. 


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: **Revised (8/25/07)

* * *

**Rangers of the North**

The birds twittered happily from their branches. They welcomed the sun and all of her beauty as she lighted their paths of flight. Swooping and dipping they greeted one another. Swallows conversed with sparrows in passing and all praised the splendor of the morning. Gentle clouds rolled through the sky promising a day free of spring rainfall. Every once in a while an easy breeze troubled the treetops. When noon came, the sun pierced through the overlapping branches of a small forest beneath her. There she saw three travelers on horseback.

Yes, the day was bright and clear; a distinct contrast with Arnen's mood. Her entire body was sore from riding mile after mile upon the blasted creature she had loved so much when they left Rivendell a week ago. Now he seemed to have been bred for the torture of young women who were not used to long hours of travel. Voron shook his black mane, restless with the way the maiden who sat on his back was acting. He was called Faithful, but the cinnamon steed could not take much more of her constant grumbling.

For the twins, however, the Wild was the terrain they were most familiar with and both were happy to be rid of their clothes as young Lords so they could don the gear of Rangers. Both were wrapped in cloaks of silver-grey and silent mail. Bows were on their backs and swords at their hips as they rode one behind and one in front of Arnen. Elladan's cream horse came to a halt, making the two behind him stop as well. To the hurting rider this was a blessing and a curse. Arnen realized just how sore her body was. A few curses she learned from a very helpful hobbit played on her tongue; but she fell silent when she finally heard why Elladan had stopped.

On the air, one could hear the faintest rustling in the leaves. Trees surrounded the trio, so Arnen could not be sure where it was coming from. Anor played with the shadows around them. Every movement she saw made her more and more aware of the fact that she had no idea how to fight. Elrohir, who was searching the forest with his piercing gaze, tuned his attention to Arnen. The elf could not help but smile. Trotting his horse to her side, he pried the dagger she held in a death grip away. The look she gave him seemed to ask if he had gone insane. Elrohir just laughed and called out to the trees, "'Tis a sad day when we begin to believe we must hide from friends, my brothers."

"A sad day indeed," a deep voice answered from the wood. Arnen jumped and audibly squeaked when a host of men stepped from the trees, all clad in cloaks of dark grey with a brooch pinned upon their left shoulders. The owner of the deep voice laughed at her unnecessary fright.

"It is also a sad day when you bring maidens as bodyguards," he said lightly.

Arnen forgot her fright and glared at the man before her. His hood was thrown back and she could see that he looked much like Aragorn. His eyes were undoubtedly a stormier grey, though. A strong jaw and sure stance made him seem like a lord. The grin tugging at his lips showed that he was amused by her attempt to intimidate him.

'Yes,' thought Arnen wryly, 'he was definitely one of Aragorn's kinsmen.'

"But I do the lady an injustice by not requesting a name," his voice was sugary sweet.

Arnen snorted (a very unladylike thing for her to do, as Bilbo pointed out whenever he could). "In other words, even though I am with the lords of Imladris I still have not passed the inspection."

The ranger's eyebrows arched. 'I have quite a handful before me.'

"Since you must know, my name is Arnen. I travel with Elladan and Elrohir on an order from Gandalf and Lord Elrond."

Now the ranger's eyebrows really shot up. He had heard her name before, he just could not place it.

Elladan cut his eyes at Arnen when she did not give a complete introduction. She would most likely say she just forgot, but that did not excuse her. Sighing he offered a hand to his stiff sister and assisted her in demounting. The elf heard Voron sigh. He ruffled the horse's mane and spoke a few encouraging words to him while Halbarad and Arnen continued to study each other. When he was certain that the exasperated steed was mollified, he addressed the ranger.

"Due to Arnen's forgetfulness of protocol, proper introductions are left up to me. Halbarad, this is Lady Arnen, Aragorn's, Elrohir's, and my adoptive sister. Arnen, this is Halbarad, Ranger of the North. Now that it is done, Halbarad, must we stand out here long or are you going to take us to get some rest?"

"Rest! Is the elf finally admitting he can feel such a weakness?" Halbarad exclaimed mockingly.

Elladan's pride would have gotten the best of him if it was not for Arnen's groan. He turned to her and offered his arm so she could better walk. If she were not so sore, the young woman would have refused. At the moment, though, she decided that her own pride could be set aside for a second. Comfort was a welcome replacement.

* * *

_T.A. 3013_

Arnen awoke to the sound of silent murmurs. Drowsy orbs began to focus, and she realized that she was lying on a bedroll. She chuckled dryly, 'I do not even remember falling asleep.' When she started to support her weight on her arms so she could straighten up a dull throb erupted in her shoulders. With a cry of pain she flopped back down, causing a hiss to escape her lips as she bruised an already sore body. She reached over her shoulder to rub the tender area, but that also caused pain to shoot through her body. Hopeless, Arnen laid still. How could she move when the moment she did some form of pain would go through her back? Arnen went to thinking dark thoughts when someone broke through her unladylike daydreams.

"Well, good morning. I trust you slept well?" an all too cheery voice asked from over her.

"Go away, ranger," she growled through her teeth.

"Are you still sore from yesterday's training, Magien?"

Arnen wanted to yell at him, 'You are damn right I'm sore! Did you think my body was going to get over the fact that you and the twins drove me so hard yesterday?' If she did scream all this, she would undoubtedly feel a lot better. The downside is that Elladan would hear her, and he did not take kindly to the fact that she slipped a colorful word into her sentences when she was angry. 'That elf knows he can scold just as well as atar.'

"Sarcasm is not well received at the moment, Halbarad."

Halbarad chuckled. For the past five years, Elladan, Elrohir and he trained the young woman with the blade, dagger and bow. Yesterday, she displayed that her skills in blade and dagger were advanced, and she could only be taught helpful tricks now. Thinking about her skills with the bow, though, Halbarad winced. She spent more time on that weapon than any other, and yet she was not any better than when she first began. The only target she could shoot in the center was from a distance of nine feet. Her stance, they had all decided, would never improve. But Halbarad did give her credit for being persistent. He turned his grey eyes on Arnen's prone state. She still did not try to move, but looked up at him expectantly.

"Get up, Magien. We pack up camp and head for Bree in less than an hour." Halbarad stood and slowly walked across the grass. 'Five, four, three, two…'

"Halbarad! Help me up, now!"

The ranger turned laughing. Gently he supported his young pupil as she gingerly stood to her feet. Even though she should be used to the way a bow tries her muscles her body would still become sore from time to time. The twenty-two year old stood with a hiss when Halbarad decided to slap her back "companion-like". She had reached her breaking point with the playful man. Turning on him, she ignored her body's cries of indignation as she tackled him to the ground.

The camp did not even stop in their daily activities. At first, they would have jumped to end the quarrel, but after a month of the sudden fights the rangers stopped trying. They knew that Halbarad deserved whatever Arnen did to him. He would not hurt her, but she would most certainly give him a few bumps.

Sure enough, when Arnen's temper calmed she came out with a few scratches. Halbarad, on the other hand, had a small trickle of blood coming from his lip and a lump on the back of his head. He took it all in good cheer. She was not a threat and her fiery temperament was endearing to him. He also took pride in the fact that he had taught her how to fend for herself. The ranger knew it would only make her angry, but he smirked at her disheveled appearance.

Arnen shoved Halbarad away. Hiding her discomfort, she walked back to her bedroll. A heather cloth pack rested at the foot of her makeshift bed. It had survived through many falls and storms. The sturdy material had been sown together by Gilraen when Arnen was a child. Picking through the contents of her bag, the grumbling woman pulled out a liquid ointment Elrohir had created. It was clear and would be mistaken for water (An unfortunate mistake to make, for the contents would make the drinker very ill if ingested.) if one was not careful. Retrieving a few pieces of cloth and her water skin, she made her way to the man who still sat a few feet away from her bedroll. Silently, she cleaned his lip and applied the ointment. Searching his face for any other injury, she finished her job and passed the items over to him. A hiss sounded from her teeth as she waited for him to finish his inspection. Halbarad cleaned her scratches that needed attention, checking her face in turn.

He was going to tease her again, but Elrohir approached and he thought better of it. If he and Arnen got into it again, the elf would never let him live it down when he came out with more than a few scratches. He stood and offered his hand to Arnen. She took it graciously. Their fights always softened her up to the infuriating ranger and lately she found that being his friend was not such a bad experience. He was like Aragorn, and so she found she could be at ease with him.

"Please don't stop your caresses at my expense, mellyn. I did not mean to interrupt," Elrohir urged Halbarad.

The ranger chuckled while Arnen went to her frequently visited dark thoughts. The elf's grey eyes were jumping with mirth as he watched his "sister" begin to grow angry…well…livid. Deciding he did not feel up for a duel of wit with the sharp mortal, he went right to the point of his appearance.

"Gandalf sends a letter to the Lady Arnen as well as a small gift."

Arnen forgot her anger and quickly snatched the letter and pouch from Elrohir's hand. Without even muttering an apology she went to her bedroll and broke Gandalf's seal. The wizard's flowing writing scrolled across the parchment:

_Dear Hên,_

'Haha, Gandalf,' she thought.

_The last I saw you was two years ago and you were faring well. I hope that is still the case. I will not use too much parchment trying to explain my doings. Just know that where I go fro time to time, I hope you will never have to venture. In the pouch I hope is safely delivered to you there are new crystals (I have a feeling that a few have suddenly "disappeared" as you like to put it.) and a fresh vial of Helwa. You __should__ have run out by now. Aragorn sends his apologies for not seeing you for a few months and also sends his love. Please find time to practice and be careful._

_Sincerely,_

_Gandalf_

_P.S. Remember to do away with this letter after you have finished reading it._

Arnen crumpled up the beige parchment and threw it into her pack, along with the grey pouch that came with the message. She had run out of Helwa but had hoped the old wizard would not guess. The woman looked up to see two rangers standing before her. Their expectant eyes amused Arnen, so she just shrugged them off and began to pack.

"Well," Halbarad began, "what news from Gandalf?"

"Is your name Arnen?" the young woman asked innocently.

Elrohir laughed, "In other words, what was written is no business of ours."

"If you want to put it like that…"

Halbarad stared at his pupil when Elrohir turned and left. Arnen ignored his presence until he finally decided to say something.

"Are you going to tell me?"

Arnen looked at Halbarad steadily. "Just because you are the commander at the moment does not mean I have to report to you. Your authority over me is limited, Halbarad, do not forget that."

A struggle of wills pushed between the friends. Arnen practiced the wisdom Gandalf, Elrond, and Aragorn tried to give her from time to time. She lowered her eyes first. This threw Halbarad off, yet he said nothing and turned away. When he finally was out of earshot, the maiden smiled and sighed, "Men and their incorrigible ways."

* * *

Helwa means light blue in Quenya (once again, not very original, but easy to remember). 


	6. Chapter 6

**Revised:** 8/25/07

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Lord of the Rings, Tolkien does. I only own characters not present in any of his works.

* * *

**So Many Questions**

Carts bustled along the streets kicking dust into the afternoon sky. It was cool, but everyone was sweating from the heat produced by the crowd. Market day had come. Everything from vegetables and fruits to swords and shields were being sold in the small, busy square. Haggling among the stands was sprinkled with different accents of Middle Earth.

Many came to the village, but few of its inhabitants left. They had enough adventure, they reckoned, hearing stories from the many that passed through on their way to wherever they were going. Most were simple and led quiet lives. But today, everyone was outside of their homes searching for a bargain. They would say to the vendors their items were not worth so many coins and then go and brag about the deal they got to their neighbors. Children clung to their mother's skirts, faces dirty and small fingers itching to touch the forbidden items throughout the square. Apprentices fetched supplies for masters while other masters handed bought goods to servants to place in baskets. Such was the scene once every two weeks in Bree.

Arnen watched it all through a window of _The Prancing Pony_. After a week's travel on horseback she and the group of rangers she roamed the Wild with reached the inn. It was a much needed relaxing moment for the score of trekkers. The young woman herself had taken a hot bath and unashamedly stayed in until the water was cool then poured in more hot water until her body was appeased. It was not often enough, she felt, that she got a decent bath. True, she had grown accustomed to the ways of the men that she called brothers; she was still a woman. Every woman needs to spoil herself, at the very least, once a month. Well, she had gone nearly eight without any relief. So when the innkeeper mentioned a bath she nearly kissed his feet in gratitude.

Arnen now wore clean trousers (much to old Butterbur's surprise), an off white linen shirt, and the dark grey cloak that denoted her as a companion to the mysterious rangers. Dark locks were bound away from her face as she sipped at the water in her cup. She paid no mind to the songs being sung inside the inn. A small smile flickered across her lips as she focused her attention on a little one just barely taller than a hobbit.

In the street leading to the square there was a young boy weaving through the crowd. She lost sight of him every so often, but he would return to view a few seconds later. He could not have been more than six years she guessed. A curly mop of sandy blonde hair topped his little head. His cheeks were smudged with dirt and his clothes did not look much better. Some adults eyed him and shook their heads in a scolding manner. Naurig (S. _little fire_) she had named the boy for he seemed full of life. He did not pay attention to the looks, he just ran and played and laughed to his heart's content. Naurig suddenly smacked into someone and fell on his rump. The man he ran into whirled around. He was a big burly guy Arnen had just seen leave. She stilled instantly and set down her cup. Rolford was his name; he had left the inn drunk.

Rolford turned red and picked the little boy up by his sandy mop of hair. Arnen stood up from her stool by the window slowly. The drunk began to yell at the child. Naurig was crying pitifully. No one around seemed to notice or care what was happening. Suddenly, the big man struck the boy leaving a red mark upon his face. Naurig began to cry harder. The flames of the fireplace in the inn grew hotter. Butterbur yell at his servant for he thought the lad had set more wood on the fire. Arnen took a deep breath attempting to calm her anger and the fire, then silently walked out of _The Pony_ into the street. She could hear what Rolford was saying now, and it made her anger burn even hotter.

"You little bastard! You need to watch where you are goin! I oughta beat you right now! Stop that cryin or I'll give you som'in to cry about! I said stop yer cryin!" He raised his hand to hit the child again.

"Rolford, let the boy go, and do not lay your hand on him."

The man turned his head to see a hooded figure standing a few feet from him. He snarled.

"You stay out of this, ranger. The little brat ought to learn a lesson."

"As should you for striking a child in that way, especially when the child is not your own."

"You lookin to teach me a lesson," Rolford threw the crying boy down, "then come and teach me."

The cloaked figure pulled off the hood and removed the cloak. Rolford guffawed.

"A woman! Why I'll slap you down like I did that child over there."

Arnen said nothing, but stood there ready for his first move. Rolford took a step forward and raised his hand to hit her. The mighty hand came down swiftly. The young woman moved quickly. She grabbed his arm and kicked behind his knee causing him to buckle. He hit the dirt with a loud thump. People on the street stopped to watch the event unfolding before them. Some men were going to move in and help the young woman but when they saw her trip Rolford they decided she would be alright.

No one moved as the drunk slowly got up. Dust clung to his left cheek and his eyes glinted with anger. This time he moved too fast for Arnen. His fist connected with her jaw, and the blow sent her reeling. Her face and neck hurt terribly. She touched her lip and felt blood. The young woman shook her head. Carefully she stood. Rolford was looking at her triumphantly, but before he knew what was happening she was upon him. Her fists connected with his jaw, his stomach, his side. One final uppercut to the chin caused him to topple. His lip was busted; Arnen knew he was going to be in pain in a few hours due to the repeated blows to his side.

"Do not touch another child in that way ever again," her voice was icy with contempt.

Turning on her heel she picked up her cloak and refastened it about her neck. The crowd of people dispersed to spread the new gossip. Arnen looked down to see the young boy standing in front of her looking up with wide brown eyes. She felt her anger melt away as she crouched down to level her eyes with his. Arnen smiled warmly.

"What is your name?"

The little boy's voice was shaky but sweet. "Fastred, son of Malon. I am five."

"My name is Arnen, daughter of Rivendell."

Fastred's brown orbs widened. "Are you an elf?"

Arnen laughed until she saw the boy's face fall. She'd never been asked that question before and what a question it was.

"No, Fastred, I'm not an elf. Elves are taller and much fairer than I. Just like you, I am of the race of Men."

Fastred smiled. His little teeth were white, a very interesting contrast with his grimy face.

"If you are not an elf, then why are your eyes that color?"

Arnen had wondered the same thing almost all of her life. She shrugged, unsure of what answer to give him.

"My father has seen elves here in Bree, but I have never seen one. What are they like? Are they scary? Are there a lot of them? How old can they get? How tall are they?"

Question after question poured from his lips like a stream of water. It was all Arnen could do to keep from laughing and hurting his feelings again. Placing her finger on his little lips, she silenced his interrogating.

"Come with me to the inn. I'll get you some food and drink while I tell you as much as I know about elves."

Standing she took his little hand in hers and led him to _The Pony_. When she set the boy down across from her at a table by a window Arnen called to Nob. The young hobbit came over to the table.

"Well hey now, what happened to you? And why is little Fastred with you?"

Fastred grinned.

"Hello, Nob. Mama let me go out and play today. Arnen saved me from a big man outside."

"Is that so?"

Nob looked at Arnen. She shook her head. The hobbit decided not to press and took her order then went off to the kitchen.

Arnen noticed Fastred did not seem to mind the noise of the inn. She assumed he came here often by the familiar way he treated Mr. Butterbur's hobbit servant. Before she could wonder anymore the little boy began his stream of questions again. Many of his questions made her laugh and some puzzled her. She told him about Elrond, his children, Glorfindel, and of the many elves that she knew and loved.

The female traveler was relieved when the food came. Fastred's questions slowed some as he shoveled forkfuls into his mouth between words. In minutes, though, he was done, and he began to ask questions again. Just when Arnen thought he would never stop three people approached the table. She looked up to see Halbarad, Elladan, and Elrohir. Fastred stopped asking questions and his innocent orbs widened.

"We left you for fifteen minutes - fifteen minutes, Arnen - and you manage to end up in a fight. And now we see you have also made a little friend." Elladan sighed.

The three rangers pulled up seats, and joined Arnen and her "little friend". Fastred still watched them in wide eyed fascination. Elrohir looked at the child sitting to his left and winked. The boy jumped out of his chair and ran to Arnen's side. Arnen laughed at his sudden shyness. Prying his fingers from her arm she introduced him to her companions.

"You all, this is Fastred, son of Malon. He is five."

Halbarad was the first to introduce himself. "I am Halbarad, Ranger of the North"

"I am Elladan."

"I am Elrohir."

If it was at all possible, Fastred's eyes became wider when the twins introduced themselves. His jaw dropped as he stared in awe. The brothers' eyes sparkled while they watched the little one's reaction. Many often thought they were just men, but they figured Arnen must have told him who they really were by the look on the boy's face.

Fastred overcame his fascination after a few minutes then on came more questions.

"How old are you? How long have you lived in Rivendell? Can you really talk to trees? What do trees say? How fast can you run? How many battles have you fought? Have you seen the Undying Lands Arnen told me about before? Will you really live forever? Who is Elderith?"

Elladan, Elrohir, Halbarad, and Arnen laughed merrily when the last question came. Arnen wiped the tears from her eyes while Elrohir explained.

"Her name is Elbereth, Fastred. She is the one who made the stars."

Fastred moved away from Arnen and sat in his chair again. Elrohir and Elladan explained things to the child and answered as many questions as they could. In about two hours, the boy's mother walked into the inn. The time for departure seemed all too soon for Fastred. He said a quiet goodbye to the elves and ranger. Arnen walked out to the street with his mother, Salmey was her name. Her hair was the same sandy blonde as Fastred's even though hers was straight.

"I would like to thank you for helping my son today. I'm sorry if he was a bother."

"Oh no, miss, he was not a problem at all. I hope you have a goodnight and that he grows to be a fine young man."

"Thank you for it, Arnen."

Fastred smiled and hugged her legs tightly in parting. The young woman returned to her companions, dropped her head on the wooden table, and groaned. Her three friends laughed.

"Well," Halbarad said, "do you hurt anywhere?"

"My jaw and my brain," she grumbled light heartedly.

"That will teach you not to get involved in anything like that again," Elladan's voice held warning. Arnen ignored it.

"Oh shut it, Elladan. You would have done the same thing, and I will do it again if the situation should arise."

The eldest of the twins was going to say something else, but Halbarad beat him to it.

"Just be careful."

Arnen lifted her head to smile at him. He was not half bad when he was not making her angry on purpose. Halbarad smiled back.

"Besides, you are only a woman and-"

"ONLY a woman!"

The offending ranger doubled over in laughter as Elrohir held Arnen away from his neck.

The streets outside became quiet, and Night slipped his darkness over the village. Vendors were all packed up; many had already moved on. The dust settled down and a cool breeze rustled the leaves. Families lay on their cots or in their beds sleeping. Children snuggled close to their mothers', some holding a new toy bought at the market. All except one child. His brown orbs looked at the stars as he thought of elves, battles, and a beautiful spirit called both Elbereth and Varda that made the many pinpoints of light.


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Lord of the Rings, Tolkien does. The only characters I own are those not found in any of his works.

**A/N: **Arnen has not been to Rivendell in many years. When she does get back (which will happen in this chapter, by the way) she will see that many things have changed…many things.

* * *

**Heartfelt Goodbyes and Surprise Greetings**

It was early morning when the rangers left Bree. No one came to see off these men (and one woman). It would be doubtful any would even if they knew the many times their homes were defended by these outcasts. But, a little soul rose early to sneak away so one last goodbye could be said.

"Hey now, look at this. We have a well wisher for our parting," Halbarad called to his nineteen companions.

Arnen looked at the little being that stood in the Road waving his arms excitedly. Clicking her tongue, she bade Voron to quicken his pace. Slipping from the back of her steed the young woman wrapped the little boy in her arms. His hug around her neck made her smile. She picked him up and spun him around before letting go. The little boy stumbled dizzily and laughed. His curly blonde hair was ruffled and his feet were bare due to the quick getaway from home.

Kneeling, she asked quietly, "Fastred, my friend, have you come to say goodbye?"

He nodded his head in response. Grinning proudly he stuck out his hand in which he held a gift. A small satchel gathered together at the top with a thin green ribbon was in his palm. One could tell the material of the bag was torn from some white clothing.

'Probably one of his shirts,' Arnen thought, wondering what was in store for him when his mother found out. But she stilled when she got a whiff of the scent coming from the little bag. She felt her eyes tear up as she gently took the gift from his hand. Cinnamon, he had brought her cinnamon. Looking into his innocent brown eyes she saw the joy he held in giving it to her. She wiped the tears from her cheeks as they spilled. Fastred's face fell.

"I am sorry. You do not like the gift," his voice was shaky and he held back tears.

Arnen pulled him into a tight hug.

"It is the best gift anyone has ever given me. I love it," her own voice was soft, as she tried to comfort the little one.

Fastred pulled back just enough so he could see her face but still be held. His miniature hands wiped the tears away. He smiled softly when he saw that her eyes were not sad but shining and bright. Placing a kiss on her cheek he stepped out of her arms.

"You smell like cimanon," (Arnen smiled at the childish mistake of pronunciation that she once made), "so I thought you would like to have the smell with you all the time. It is really pretty."

"It is," Elladan said behind Arnen.

The Bree boy looked up to see Elrohir and Elladan on their horses. Fastred walked over to the elves and asked, "Will you come again and visit?"

Elrohir leaned over to place his hand upon Fastred's shoulder. This answer was enough for him. Turning to the rest of the group, he puffed up his chest and said, "Thank you for everything. I say you are always welcome to Bree. No matter what anyone else thinks you are true friends and allies."

The men lifted their hands in thanks. All of them were amused by this boy Arnen had saved. Some whispered to one another of how he would grow to be an excellent man. They were grateful for his acceptance of them for there were not many left in Middle Earth that looked upon rangers kindly. Arnen knew of the men's gratitude, and she felt it herself. She was proud of Fastred for his statement. When she mounted her horse, Arnen looked down at him.

"I swear I'll come back to see you again."

"When?" was his childlike question.

She sighed, "Whenever Eru allows."

And with that the group left Bree to join the rest of the Grey Company.

* * *

_T.A. September 22, 3018_

Arnen lifted her eyes to the autumn moon overhead. She could see her breath swivel up from her lips as she crouched in the darkness. A watch was set up by the road at Sarn Ford, and she volunteered to be part. Nose numb and knees stiff she listened. Lagor was hidden somewhere to her right behind one of the few thick tree trunks. No noise came from where he was stationed as it should be. The silence, though, was not the kind any of them were happy to hear. The nightingale had abruptly stopped its song. Not one chirp came from the crickets, and all critters had stopped their stirring. The night seemed…dead.

There had been a warning given to all the rangers of the North. Beware of the night. The Nazgul were abroad. Arnen shivered. In all her studies with Lord Elrond one of her least favorite stories was that of the Ring-wraiths. The nine kings of men who fell to the Dark Lord. It was a sinister and piteous tale, one full of greed and things that made her ashamed of her people and their weakness. Arnen pulled away from those thoughts and concentrated on the inkiness before her.

'Wait, inkiness?' she thought. 'Was not the moon just…'

Indeed, Ithil's light was once bathing the road. Now clouds blocked him from view, and all was dark. Arnen let out a bird call to see if everything was alright for there was something cruel looming in the air. She was relieved to hear answering bird calls, but they held a different message. It was a warning, one that meant swords must be drawn. Slowly and carefully so the blade wouldn't make too much noise Arnen pulled Maebuian (S. _I serve well_) from its scabbard. If it was the Black Riders she knew that her sword would do her no good, so she readied her powers as well. There was a slight humming in her chest as she tried to focus herself. Suddenly, they came. A horrifying screech ripped through the air. Arnen felt her heart writhe at the tortured sound. More screeching pierced the night and the attack of the Ring-wraiths began.

She never felt such fear in all the battles she fought as she did in this one. These creatures were not like orcs. No, orcs were like children compared to these beings. They sat tall upon their midnight horses. Their dark robes were blacker than the night itself. All light was swallowed about them; a queer mist that seemed to fill all with dread that approached the riders was flowing from an unknown source. Arrows did not daunt them, no swords could stop them. Arnen saw the members of the Grey Company begin to turn and run. She was relieved that they had come to their senses. For how can you kill something that is not alive?

Arnen ran through the trees. She had stayed within their cover and shadow. Slowing for a moment, she watched the Riders again. Her breath was quaking, but she calmed herself and closed her eyes. The humming began inside her chest again. The metallic sound of scabbard sheathing sword sounded as she began her spell. Words dropped from her lips silently, and began to take form until she could feel warmth in her hands. Opening her eyes she looked with satisfaction on the blue and green flame. But when she lifted her head, she saw something that made her wish she was still running.

A Black Rider was riding towards her…fast. The creature stretched out his hand, and Arnen felt a cold fear paralyze her thoughts. He was riding closer. His sword was unsheathed, blood dripping from the blade. The sight of the blood caused Arnen to come back to her senses. He was the enemy and she was the only one that could slow him down if not stop him. So, she drew herself up from her cowering state and timed her next move. As if sensing her defiance, the Rider laughed.

"You can not triumph over me," his voice was shrill and cold.

Arnen made no response. Instead, she lifted her hands and sent the flaming ball towards the wraith and ran. From behind her she heard an abhorrent cry. The fire had made contact, but she did not look back to see if it had destroyed her enemy. When she heard hoof beats she decided that it had only slowed him down.

"Voron, to me!" she called out to her mount.

The faithful horse raced up from where she had set him. Arnen swung into the saddle quickly and rode as hard as she could. When she broke through the trees she could see her brothers in arms riding before her. None looked back, but she was stupid enough to do so. All Nine were riding in quick pursuit. The young woman hurriedly jumbled through her mind looking for something, anything to slow their chase. Spell after spell she threw their way, causing tree roots to spring up, the earth to jut out, and the waters of the Brandywine take out the bridge leading to Greenway after she crossed. They kept coming.

Arnen felt her strength draining. Looking ahead, she saw that the other horses were closer in view. At the moment, she wished for Elrohir or Elladan to be beside her, helping her even if they could not know her secret. But it was not to be. They were not with the Grey Company at the moment. Halbarad would have even been a welcome sight, but he was with the group of men before her. Just when she knew that if she had to cast one more spell she would probably slip into unconsciousness, Arnen was among the company. When they saw her they fell back and closed around from behind. All could see she was weak and knew that if they did not protect her she would fall behind and perish. They cared for her too much to allow that to happen. She was like a younger sister to them, and none wished to see her die. Her being the sister of their chieftain, Aragorn, did contribute to the fact also.

Halbarad knew they were coming to Greenway and that if they were driven any further they would either have to turn and fight or collapse. Looking back over his shoulder he saw Arnen being surrounded by some of the men. She was bent over in her saddle, stubborn as ever, trying to ride on. Halbarad slowed his steed enough so that he could be beside her. When she looked over at him he saw that her eyes were glowing. This took him aback. He always thought her eyes were odd, everyone thought so, but this sight made him nearly pause in wonder. The cry of the Ring-Wraiths prevented him from doing so. He glanced over his shoulder. There were only five pursuing them, but they were riding fast.

"Do not stop, Arnen," he commanded. "Ride, ride, ride."

Arnen's spirit lifted just enough for her to press on.

They rode without rest all that night. Anor rose in the east, but she did not shine upon the Dunedain for clouds blocked her from view. From time to time they were able to slip away and gain moments of rest during the day, but they would again hear the sounds of the black horses' hooves and be forced to ride. They were being driven farther and farther eastward. Arnen could not risk using her power among the men. She longed to, though, so she could help them. Time passed in the form of rolling hills beneath her. Before she knew it, the day was done. There seemed to be no end, and she just fell into a rhythm. Her body stopped protesting the harshness of the journey; it became numb.

Ahead Halbarad could see that they were going to approach the river Mitheithel in only minutes. But something suddenly caused him to stop. He could see the river. That meant that the moon was out. That meant…. He got down from Celemel.

Arnen looked over at him like he had gone insane. She and the others stopped accordingly and waited for an explanation. The leader of the Grey Company looked back and saw the Black Riders had turned around. They were heading back for the Shire. Arnen saw this also and slid from the back of her horse. Everyone else dismounted in like manner and contemplated what they should do next. Arnen watched Halbarad. He had slipped into that somber disposition she rarely ever saw him express. She advanced slowly.

"Captain?" she never used his title before.

Halbarad shook himself and looked in her questioning orbs. A heavy weight that had been on his shoulders lifted for a moment and he smiled at her. Placing his hand upon her cheek he said, "I fear for the little-folk. But there is nothing we can do now."

Arnen looked at her friend in worry. What would they do? Gandalf had charged them with the wellbeing of the hobbits, but this was a foe that none of them knew how to beat. Halbarad saw her worry and just kissed her forehead in response.

"We will wait, Arnen, for the answer. It will come," he looked to the men. "Now, five of you lead the horses to Mitheithel to be watered. Galnot, take a count of how many are lost. Rohdun, draw water from the river. Himellon, go and gather firewood."

"I will go with him," Arnen volunteered.

Halbarad stopped her. "No. You will stay here and rest. You need it."

He watched her puff up defensively.

"Just because I am a woman it does not mean that I cannot help or that I am wearier than any here."

Halbarad took her hand in his. Arnen tried to snatch it back, but his hold was firm and gentle. She glared at him. This made him chuckle softly.

"No, Arnen, you are not weaker than any of us. You may even be stronger in your own way. But, I will warrant if you tried to gather firewood right now you would collapse under the load."

His voice held no hint of teasing or mocking only…caring. Arnen just nodded and allowed herself to be led to a log. There he set her down and served her. When the fire was built and the food ready Halbarad placed a bedroll near it for Arnen. He saw that she was ready to fall asleep, but he shook her to wakefulness. Arnen looked at him with bleary eyes. Halbarad thought she looked lovely in this state. The firelight made her orbs glow. Drawing himself from such thoughts he handed her a bowl of stew.

"Eat before you go to sleep."

Arnen took the bowl from him and steadily fed herself. She saw the way Halbarad had looked at her. She had noticed more and more since spring settled upon the land. At first it alarmed her, and she would ask what was wrong. A few months ago she decided it was best not to ask that question. When she did he would stop looking at her; when he thought she couldn't see him he would do it again. That disturbed her more than the outright looks. Finishing her stew, Arnen sat up and stared into the fire. The flames were enchanting. They ended her thoughts about Halbarad, and she just began to sway instead. The camp was quiet besides the crackling of the blaze.

Then a sweet humming broke through the silence. Everyone stopped their dreary thoughts and gave ear to the song that was weaving in the night.

_There is a light for all to see.  
It's there in the dark of the Night.  
Burning bright through all gloom,  
It's there when battles we fight._

The voice was Arnen's. Hers was a rare one to hear among the camp, but when she did sing it was a delight. All the men closed their eyes and savored the sweetness of her voice. They were men after all, and the only time they heard a gentle voice was when Arnen chose to speak that way. It was a comfort to hear the song. One voice after another joined her.

_Ever high and ever true;  
Ever white and pure;  
Ever there to guide the way  
To help low spirits soar._

_When our journey is hard  
And life bears no hope  
We look to that gleaming star  
That is there so we may cope._

_For men and elf alike  
It is upon their hearts a seal  
Reminding them, 'Never despair!'  
Ride and shine Earendil!_

A gentle wind picked up from the west. It held comfort for all. Those who were set on watch went to their posts with lighter hearts. When Arnen got up, Halbarad pulled her back down.

"You need to rest."

She looked at him gratefully and laid down to rest. Her last thoughts before drifting into a dreamless sleep were: 'I wonder what happens now?'

* * *

Arnen knelt by the river. The sun still was not over the horizon and all but the watch were sleeping. It had been a month since the attack on the Grey Company. No answer had come like Halbarad said one would. There was no answer in sight as far as they knew. They just sat and waited for word. They were close to Rivendell, a two day ride at most; why no one was sent, Arnen did not know. She was growing impatient…well…she had been impatient for almost the whole month of their stay near the river. Patience was not one of her reigning attributes.

She petted Voron's snout as he drank from the river. Wisps of dark hair swirled around her as a cool breeze greeted the sun. Setting her sword beside her she splashed her face with the crisp water of Mitheithel. It was a river she was familiar with for it flowed into Bruinen. Suddenly she felt a pain in her gut. At first she couldn't place it, but then she recognized the feeling. It was homesickness. Arnen nearly laughed. She hadn't felt homesick in years. Not since the first year of travel came and went. This would be her tenth year with the Grey Company of the Dunedain of the North. Ten years she had wandered the wild and trained. It had been ten years since she was this close to home.

Arnen dried her face with her shirt. She was happy that the tears were mingled in with the water used to clean her face. Closing her mind to all thoughts she just watched the sunrise.

* * *

Halbarad watched her kneel by the river. Her hair was loose and the breeze played with the midnight hued strands. His thoughts were dangerous ones to have for a ranger especially when they are towards the sister of a dear friend; especially when that friend is Aragorn. He knew the Chief of the Dunedain would not be very pleased to find out that someone who was entrusted with the care of one so dear to his heart had come to see her in a new light. Maybe it was when he first met her that these feelings began, he could not remember. All he knew was that they were there, and he had to do something about them.

When Arnen lifted her head toward the sun he resolved to step forward and tell her what he felt. But from behind he heard the hooves of two horses. Turning, he saw Elladan and Elrohir coming toward him.

"Mae Govannen, Halbarad," Elladan called out.

"Mae Govannen, mellyn," he replied not so happy to see the twins at the moment. Any other time would have been great for him. But now…not so much.

When the elves approached they did not dismount. Upon seeing Halbarad's question in his eyes Elrohir explained.

"We are delivering news to Aragorn. We can not stop long."

"Aragorn is in Rivendell?"

All three of them looked to Arnen who had joined their conversation.

"Mae-" Elrohir began.

"Aragorn is in Rivendell?" Arnen cut him off. She had not heard from Aragorn in nearly a year.

'Some brother,' she huffed.

Elladan knew her thoughts.

"Would you like to come with us? I know you are eager to see home again. Ada has not seen you in a while either. I believe it would do his heart good to receive a hug and hear your voice."

A huge smile spread on Arnen's face.

"But we must hurry," Elrohir added.

You did not have to tell her twice. The woman did not even bother to go back for her bedroll. She knew she would not need it. Placing her cloak around her shoulders and her blade at her hip, she mounted Voron. The twins laughed at her enthusiasm. With a salute to Halbarad they rode across the river. Arnen turned and said to her tutor and friend, "May our paths cross again soon."

Halbarad sighed when she turned away and splashed through the river.

"Soon, my Magien (S. _sword woman_). Soon, Ôl nín (S. _my dream_)."

* * *

There was a feast in order welcoming the guests of the house of Elrond, but Aragorn was pulled from it. The twins were back with tidings that he wished to hear. He walked down the corridor leading to Elrond's study. Hung on the walls were tapestries woven as only the elves could. There was such detail and preciseness he felt that he could walk into the wall-hangings. No battles were displayed in this hall. No, only peaceful scenes. A view of the Lorien of Valinor was one Aragorn favored. It reminded him of the place where he first saw Arwen. He shook himself before slipping into another daydream. He would have to reminisce later, now business was at hand.

Entering the study he saw the twins still in their traveling attire leaning against the cherry table that held their father's papers. They had been like brothers to him in his childhood so he was accustomed to their ways of mischief and that familiar sparkle in those identical grey eyes. Instantly, he knew something was amiss and became wary. Unfortunately he was not fast enough in his change because he found himself tackled to the ground from the side. When the initial shock wore off Aragorn realized what hit him.

A woman was hugging his waist hard enough to bruise him. Her dark hair was pulled back and her "silver-gold" orbs were shining. A flush could be seen on her tanned skin even though a mask the same dark grey of her cloak covered everything below her eyes. Once the ringing in his ears ceased, Aragorn could hear what she was saying.

"I swear if you leave me with those men like that again I will kill you! Dunedain or not, they are children, especially Halbarad…"

The amused Ranger lifted himself and his attacker from the ground as she continued her muffled complaints. Even when he removed her mask the criticism kept coming in a steady flow. Leaning over, he placed a kiss on her forehead that made her stop speaking and instead glare at him in mock scorn. Aragorn chuckled.

"Just remember, don't ever leave me behind again for such a long time. SEVEN years, you impossible man! And letters do not count. Gallivanting and tracking while I sit back wanting more cunning quarry than orc."

"I missed you, too, little sister."

"Little!" she exclaimed. "Have you become blind also? I have changed considerably since you last saw me."

Aragorn stepped back to better look at her. Her skin had grown darker than it's once alabaster look due to much exposure to the sun. He knew that the effect was permanent from experience. She was almost at his eye level and she had let her hair grow down to her waist. Constant weapon training had put strength in her stance. It may have been unseemly for most women but for Arnen it fit. There was also a small scar above her eyebrow. Unquestionably, she had changed.

As much as he would have loved to speak with his sister he knew it would have to wait.

"Besides the incompetence of my men, what news?" he addressed the twins.

Elrohir looked to Arnen making Aragorn turn to her. The happiness of her face had melted away; she was now somber. She dropped her head slightly. This made him wonder.

"Arnen?" He lifted her chin so he could see her face.

The woman closed her eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. Then looking into her brother's clear grey orbs she began where she felt she should.

"We were attacked at Sarn Ford…"

"Attacked! When? By what force?" he interrupted her.

He saw her eyes become dark as she remembered everything. Pulling away from the past she said in a quiet voice.

"The Nazgul."


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: **So…Arnen has arrived in Rivendell the night before the famous Council of Elrond (she doesn't know this yet), Aragorn hears about the attack at Sarn Ford for the first time, and now on with the story.

* * *

**The Strangeness of Rivendell**

Aragorn hoped that he heard her incorrectly. He prayed that she had not said WE were attacked at Sarn Ford. He guessed already that there had been some attack for the Riders to reach the Shire, but not by the Riders themselves; and he did not think Arnen was with them. 'Halbarad could not have allowed her to be with the watch on the Road knowing of the danger,' he thought. 'Next time I see that man I will assuredly like to speak with him about a few matters.'

Arnen continued. "Last month, they just appeared. We tried to fight, but…" her voice faded for a moment as she remembered the blood on the Rider's sword. "But they overpowered us. Twenty from an original fifty of our brothers were killed before we fled. They chased us, all nine, through the night. We do not know when it happened, but four of them turned back for the Shire while the rest kept after us. They did not stop until the next night."

The woman felt drained thinking about the whole ordeal. She rested her forehead on Aragorn's shoulder. His arms wrapped around her gently. Arnen could have almost cried she had forgotten how good it felt to be hugged by her brother. His embrace was always a comfort. 'Even when there is mail under his cloak,' Arnen laughed to herself.

"Is Arwen here, or are you just trying to impress the new guests that I hear have arrived?"

Aragorn chuckled and gave Arnen one last squeeze before releasing her. Taking her arm, he led her to the door. He could hear her groan as he opened the door and ushered her from the room. The woman turned before Aragorn shut her out. Gold-grey orbs pleaded with him, but the ranger stayed firm.

"Go and get dressed so you can see Lord Elrond before the night is over."

"But Aragorn – "

"No, Arnen. I will meet you in the Hall of Fire."

And with that, he closed the door.

Arnen walked quickly to her old quarters so she could change. She had sorely missed her home, so she decided to excuse Aragorn for his usual brotherly habits. Taking one last turn to the western corridor the wanderer of the woods came to her room door. The cherry doors were so familiar to her and so…. Arnen could almost cry. She could not explain what was wrong with her. It had been a long time since she had seen Imladris, true, but that was no reason for tears was it? Putting aside her thoughts she turned the handle and entered her chamber.

It was just as she had left it besides the fresh sheets on the bed. Her closet and chest of drawers lay to the right as she stepped into the room. Beside her bed stood a small bookshelf so stuffed with books she had to lay them horizontally so more could fit. Atop the bookshelf a glass bowl of water was set. Floating inside the bowl were small lit candles. Arnen smiled while remembering her first fascination with the beautiful display when she saw them in Lady Celebrian's room. She was a child then, yet unnamed, and it had been very long since the Lady left for Valinor.

Scanning the room again she saw her desk was still in front of the window. Silken curtains were drawn and moonlight washed over the stone floor. The fireplace was lit and kept away the chill of the autumn night. Paintings decorated her walls and one tapestry hung beside the full length mirror with gorgeous carvings. Every detail of the drapery always captured Arnen's eyes. It was of Valinor, the Undying Lands, the Forbidden Lands. But the most interesting part of it to her was the land beyond Valinor that was just barely visible. That, Elrond had told her, was the Aman. It is the Land where Manwe and Varda, as well as most of the Valar and many of the Maiar, dwelled.

Arnen pulled out of her enchantment and looked to the glass doors that led to the balcony. Pushing them open she looked down on the garden beneath her it was one of her favorites in Rivendell. She and her mother took many a walk in that garden when she was a child. Leaning upon the banister she took a deep breath and the fragrance of lilies and other floral scents wafted up to her. A nightingale sang its ode to the beauty of night. The rocking chair that she sat in as a youth was swaying back and forth in the breeze. Arnen closed her eyes to savor the sweetness of the moment. Indeed she was home.

She glanced at the garden again and turned to leave, but something caught her eye. Someone was in the garden. It was an elf of that she had no doubt because she could not hear any footsteps. Who he was, Arnen did not know. His golden hair was adorned with strange braids that denoted he was not an elf of Imladris. But by their intricacy she could tell he was of noble blood. The elf lord seemed to be in deep thought as he strode through the gardens. Moonlight made it hard to tell what color his clothes were or else she might have been able to tell where he was from. There were only four elf kingdoms left.

Suddenly the elf turned and looked up at Arnen. His eyes were bright and a smile graced his lips when he saw her. She returned his smile and gave a deep nod. She did not know how to greet him, so that gesture seemed the safest to make. He in turn bowed. The elf opened his mouth to say something, but Arnen's attention was caught by the sound of her door opening.

"Lady Arnen, your presence has been requested by Lord Estel in the Hall of Fire," Irima, her maidservant from when she first came to Rivendell, called from within.

"I am coming."

Arnen turned back to the garden, but the elf was gone. Shaking her head at the constant mystery of the Elves she walked back into her room. Irima stood beside her canopy bed with a dress as golden as the autumn leaves draped over her arm. When the elf maiden laid the raiment across the bed Arnen immediately fell in love with it. The dress was simple. There were no jewels; there were no bell sleeve. What made her love the dress even more was the embroidery on the bodice. It was a blossoming tree, but at the same time it was just a cluster of beautifully dancing stitches. The thread was a green that complimented the gown.

Arnen went behind her dressing screen and changed. When she walked out a smile of satisfaction was on Irima's face. The maidservant had always tried to make Arnen into a proper lady. Now, the sapling she once remembered had grown. She had finally allowed her hair to grow past her shoulders; and even though she lost the curves she once had Arnen was much taller.

"It fits," the woman said simply while checking herself in the mirror.

"Of course it does," Irima nearly rolled her eyes. "When I saw you walk in I knew you would probably fit one of your mother's old gowns."

Arnen stilled as she looked into the full length mirror. Yes, yes, it was one of her mother's dresses. Gilraen wore it only once because she said the color was wrong for her. The woman ran her hands across the tapering V of the bodice that led to the skirts.

'I am as tall as naneth was,' Arnen thought to herself as Irima began to work with her dark locks.

"Leave it Irima." She always hated to have her hair done up only to take it down a few moments later.

"Oh no. Not this time. You have just returned home and I will have you at least wearing braids," the maidservant pushed Arnen into a chair and paid no heed to her heavy sighs as she braided. Ten minutes later (which felt like twenty to Arnen) the elf was satisfied with her handiwork and sent Arnen to the Hall.

Exquisite music from elven minstrels filled the room. Laughter, song, and conversation mingled to bring a smile to the eyes of Lord Elrond. The presence of his daughter by his side also gave him joy. He had missed her sorely for she always brought light where ever she went. The elf felt sad though that under such circumstances he had to beckon her. Again his mind turned to the council that was to be held the next day. There was so much that needed to be said and many weighty decisions to make. His eyes wandered over to Frodo where he sat with Bilbo and Aragorn. In his heart he knew the young hobbit's journey was not over. He had foreseen many things and many things had been withheld from his vision, but this he knew: Frodo son of Drogo was not going back to the Shire for some time…if at all.

Suddenly a figure entering the Hall caught his eye. She was mortal, one he had not seen in Rivendell. But when the woman turned and saw him the smile that spread on her face made him recognize her instantly. The elf lord stood from his seat as she ran into his embrace. Others who were sitting near Lord Elrond wondered who the woman was that she gained such a greeting. When the two stopped hugging they just looked at one another for a time.

"Arnen, Arnen, precious child. You have finally returned," Elrond smiled.

Those who had wondered understood for they knew the adopted daughter of Gilraen who had become dear to those who knew her. Glorfindel and Erestor both stood and bowed. Arwen greeted her with a sisterly kiss for she also remembered the child from her yearly visits to Imladris.

"Come, sit. Tell me what you have learned and what you have seen on your journeys with the Dúnedain," Elrond invited her to a chair.

"Oh, I would love to sit and talk with you all night, but I have not seen Gandalf for some years now and I would really like to speak with him. I promise that tomorrow I will give you as much information as I can."

Elrond laughed, "Tomorrow will not be the best day, but we will speak when time allows. But, very well, Gandalf is by the fireplace speaking with Glóin."

"Thank you." Arnen tuned and began to walk towards the fire. When she realized what Elrond had said, she turned back and addressed him.

"Glóin? Glóin son of Gróin, one of Bilbo's dwarf companions?"

"Indeed, he is here to seek council. His son Gimli accompanied him."

Arnen wondered at the strangeness of such guests. If she remembered correctly, Elves and Dwarves were not really the best of friends at the moment. Making her way towards the fireplace, she halted at Gandalf's side. The dwarf stood and bowed. Arnen curtsied as best she could (being mistaken for a man when she had on her cloak often gave her better practice at bowing than at curtsying) and said, "Arnen at your service."

"Glóin at your service and your family's," Glóin responded.

Gandalf laughed and embraced her shoulders. His beard tickled her as it always did and she laughed in turn. Pulling back she eyed the old wizard. He had a noble air to him tonight and she nearly lost herself in the aura except Gandalf finally spoke in his deep, comforting voice.

"If you would please excuse me, Glóin, I must take my leave."

The noble miner said farewell and Gandalf led Arnen to a darker corner of the Hall away from everyone else. The two sat down together and Gandalf began.

"How are you, Arnen?"

"Very relieved to be home among family and friends," she sighed contentedly.

"Good, good." Gandalf's voice lowered, "I came upon Sarn Ford on the twenty-eighth of September. I saw the effects of the attack."

Arnen thought about the long chase and dropped her head. She felt Gandalf lift her chin to look into her eyes.

"You have revealed yourself to a deadly foe. Riding with the Dúnedain is not safe…"

"Gandalf, it was going to happen. We knew this, but now that it has I cannot just sit around."

"It is foolish to believe that you can fight this enemy."

Arnen felt her anger begin to rise. "I will fight the enemy even though I may not win."

"Not winning the battle means you will lose your life, child."

Arnen took a deep breath to calm her nerves as she felt a soft humming grow in her chest.

"I have learned something, dear Gandalf, as I journeyed these past ten years. I would rather die than to watch others fight and know I can do something to help. These gifts were a curse to me while I sat here in Rivendell with no way to really use them. But out there I could use them and the load became easier to bear. Imladris is my home and I am happy to be back, but now that I see I am of some use…I'll never be at ease waiting here."

Gandalf sighed, "Do not be angry, Arnen. For once, listen to my words of wisdom. These gifts, for that is what they are, were given to you for a purpose. There is a time for everything, but I do not think it is time for your purpose to reveal itself."

"Then when, Gandalf?" Frustration rose in Arnen as she whispered, "When will the time come? Will it ever come?"

The old wizard reached out to place his hand on her shoulder in comfort; the disheartened woman just shrugged it off and went to sit closer to the fire. The dwarf had retired for the evening and Arnen was glad for it because she did not wish to speak with anyone. Her heart was troubled. She wished to help, but Gandalf's words echoed in her head: _'…I do not think it is time for your purpose to reveal itself'_. She had waited twenty-seven years for the time to come when the reason why she had such gifts would be made known. And now, she could almost taste it. Arnen could feel that very soon her time would come.

'I just have to watch for it,' she thought.

Just then she heard applause and turned to see Bilbo in a circle of elves. They were asking for him to sing his verse again, but the hobbit declined. Arnen smiled. Bilbo Baggins was always trying to have the elves guess which mortal made which part of his songs. The listeners would always say the same thing: "It is hard to distinguish between two mortals."

She watched as the hobbit rose from his stool and left with Frodo. He looked older than what she remembered. His hair was a full mop of snow instead of the brown and grey from when she left. His gait was not as quick and his back was not as straight. The old hobbit was finally starting to look just that: old. Arnen wanted to speak with him but decided against it. Frodo held his attention. Instead, she decided to corner Aragorn again and get more news about what exactly happened to cause so many to come. Scanning the room she gave up on that idea when she finally saw him. He was by Arwen with his dark cloak thrown back and mail shining.

The woman found herself heading for the garden. Upon stepping foot outside she felt peace wash over her body. The night air was crisp and the Bruinen's voice was not as loud from where she stood. Arnen strode across the grass with ease. She hummed along with the music that wafted from the Hall of Fire. It was a song about the ride of Ithil and his path through the sky. He was always trying to catch Anor as she blazed across the heavens, and so he was never on a sure course. The woman looked to the silver flower as it shimmered in the night. A sigh escaped from her lips as she thought of what her brothers-in-arms were doing at the moment.

"It is beautiful, is it not?" a soft voice asked from behind.

Arnen was startled, but replied, "Ithil is always beautiful, as are the stars."

"Yes. Elbereth's handiwork is a lovely sight to behold."

The speaker now stood to her right. It was the elf she saw earlier from her balcony. She was barely above his shoulder and she could see the hue of his attire. It was green and brown. He was an elf of Mirkwood. Arnen had never been to Mirkwood, but while she traveled the Grey Company had encounters with the elves of that wood. This just added to her wonder of Rivendell's many guests.

"Indeed," she said after a pause.

"I did not see you at the feast, but I believe I saw you earlier this evening." He turned to face her and Arnen could see that his eyes were a dark grey. His features were fair; he was an elf so that was to be expected.

"I was unable to attend the feast, but you did see me earlier. I am…"

"Arnen! Arnen, where are you?" Aragorn called from inside.

With an embarrassed smile she said, "Please forgive me. I am being called."

The mysterious lord bowed. "Of course."

She turned and hurried back inside, trying as hard as she could not to trip. After a third failed attempt Arnen picked up her skirts as she looked for her brother. He was not in the Hall and when she did not see Arwen either, she began to wonder if she had heard him at all. Once half an hour of searching went by she gave up and made her way up to her room. When Arnen turned a corner leading from one of the many staircases in Rivendell she ran into a body. Staggering back she would have fallen down the steps if a steadying hand had not reached out to catch her. After regaining her balance she saw that the man holding her arm was the elusive brother she had been looking for.

Aragorn gave a sigh of relief, "Where have you been?"

"I could ask you the same question. So, how is Arwen? She was not in the Hall of Fire when I went there to look for you."

There was no expression on Aragorn's face that gave away his awkwardness, but Arnen could see clearly in his eyes that she had hit the mark.

Laughing she had mercy on him and said, "I was in the garden, tôrnim (_S. my brother_)."

"I thought I heard your voice there…and someone else's."

She became indignant, "Oh no. You cannot try to make it seem like I was doing anything."

"I would never say anything of the sort," the ranger feigned innocence.

'Of course not,' his annoyed sister thought.

"Goodnight, Aragorn."

He smiled and kissed her forehead. "Goodnight, Arnen. It is wonderful to see you again."

Before Arnen drifted off to sleep that night she could not help but wish that her time in Rivendell would stretch. She needed rest and she needed the love that she remembered from her youth.


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: **Last time we were together Arnen talked to Elrond, Glóin, Gandalf, Aragorn, and one mysterious elf (: I wonder who he is:). On with the story…

* * *

**The Council of Elrond**

Arnen, much to her frustration, greeted the morning before the sun did. Birds were out getting their early meal; some foolish crickets were still out chirping. Many elves were already going about their business in Rivendell for many of them did not sleep. Arnen's ceiling became her focus of attention as she tried to will herself back to her dreams. It was different than most in the Last Homely House. There were no rich beams of fine wood. Instead, it was a dome cut from the stone of the house. Painted on its smooth surface were two treetops in bloom. They were the Two Trees of Valinor.

Elrond had told her the tragic story of Laurelin and Telperion: how they were poisoned by Ungoliant, a great spider in the service of Morgoth, and how the Valar mourned their loss. But from Laurelin's last fruit came the Sun and from Telperion's ending flower came the Moon. The Two Tree's trunks stretched down opposite facing walls. One trunk was behind her bed; the other was beside the tapestry of Valinor. Between their blooming branches was a single star, Eärendil, named for the father of Elrond who rode a ship across the sky bearing one of the Silmarils.

The perturbed woman rolled over with a groan. Even after years of traveling with the early rising rangers she had never transformed into a morning person. Looking down at her body entangled in white bed sheets she cried, "What is wrong with you?! Your first chance in a very long time to sleep later than usual and you are awake with the birds."

She did not receive an answer, but felt herself become more alert. Grumbling under her breath she untangled her legs and stood to her feet on the cold stone floor. The leggings she wore to bed were rumpled and the shirt was beyond the help of any elf, the wrinkles would never come out. Long locks spilled in front of her eyes as she shook her head, scattering the last bits of sleep that clung to her.

On the trunk at the end of her bed a fresh dress was laid. Arnen guffawed. At the moment she did not feel like being a "gracious" lady. The breeze that entered through her open terrace doors made her long for a little exploring. Ignoring the beautiful white apparel prepared for her she went to her closet in hopes of finding her travel clothes. Sure enough, inside were freshly cleaned leggings, shirt, and cloak. With a smile she pulled them all out.

'Elves not needing sleep has many quirks…especially for me at the moment.' She smirked and went to the bathe.

* * *

She sat in the branches of Galadh and thought of the many times she had come to this place for comfort and peace. Bruinen rolled beneath the boughs of the ancient tree. Closing her eyes she took a deep breathe. The familiar scent of sap, green, and water soothed her travel-worn heart. She rested her chin on the one leg being hugged to her chest as the other dangled off the side of the thick branch. Childhood memories flooded her again: all the tears and the laughter, the hugs and the arguments. With a sigh she jumped down and began the trek back to the Homely House.

The sun was almost at the point of marking the twelfth hour when Arnen came up to the house again. Passing by one of the many walls outside of the structure she heard a clang from above. She looked up and wondered. Behind the sound she heard Lord Elrond's voice. Hurrying to where the noise came from, she found she was nearing a porch that was decorated with trees and bushes. Upon the porch she saw a gathering of elves, men, a couple hobbits, and even a few dwarves; immediately she pulled back and pressed herself against the wall.

She heard Bilbo speaking and she recognized the tale he was telling, it was of how he bested Gollum and gained his odd little ring. But there were some new parts to the story that she had not heard: a new riddle, different happenings. Listening intently she began to understand his unwillingness of telling the whole story to her. Elrond soon interrupted him and had Frodo tell his story.

Now Arnen's attention was fully captured for she was curious to hear more about this hobbit who the Grey Company had given so much to protect. There were many interruptions because of the numerous questions, but soon the tale was done and she heard him sit. At first she was in shock. Nothing could have prepared her for the fact that this young hobbit was the bearer of such a great evil. She remembered the many times she watched the Hobbits go about their daily business. They were a carefree folk, and it saddened her that something so dreadful could interrupt any of their lives. Her thoughts were suddenly broken through by a terrible voice that filled her ears.

"_Ash nazg durbatulûk, ash nazg gimbatul, ash nazg thrakatulûk agh burzum-ishi krimpatul_."

The sky overhead darkened. Arnen covered her ears and dropped to her knees in a sudden weakness. Just as quickly as the voice and darkness came it went away. The woman panted slightly for lack of breath. She sat back against the wall and tried to understand why she reacted like that when the terrible language tormented the air.

"Never before has any voice dared to utter words of that tongue in Imladris, Gandalf the Grey," she heard Elrond say.

'And I hope no one ever will again,' Arnen thought to herself. She was surprised that Gandalf would even use that speech for it could only be one…only one language was never spoken in Rivendell…the Black Speech of Mordor. Turning her mind back to the council, she heard that the silence that occurred shortly after the disturbance was broken. But the focus was set upon Gollum when a fair and familiar voice cried out in great distress, "Alas! Alas!..."

First Arnen could not put the voice with a face, but then realization dawned. It was the elf she had seen in the garden the previous night. Her eyes widened. So he was part of this company also. She listened as he told his story of how Gollum escaped from the forest Mirkwood. Gandalf's story of Saruman's treachery was also added to the council. Arnen was sad to hear that the great wizard had bent beneath his lusting for the Ring. But with Gandalf's story finished the council had a problem laid before them that needed to be solved. What to do with the Ring? Even Arnen sat and wondered at what they would be said.

Would they send it away? Or, would they destroy? But, how do you destroy it? She could hear voices rise and fall. With Bilbo's request for dinner everything fell silent. 'Just like a hobbit to think of food when a question requiring an answer that will determine the fate of all Middle Earth,' Arnen could almost laugh at his predictability and stomach.

Just as she almost thought that they would be sitting there forever, a small voice spoke up, "I will take the Ring though I do not know the way.'

Arnen's jaw dropped as she peeked around the corner to make certain that her ears had not been deceived. No, it was as she thought. Frodo Baggins had just volunteered himself as the bearer of probably one of the heaviest burdens in history…and Elrond approved his volunteering. On top of that, a hobbit she did not recognize popped out of the bushes and he was also to assist in the destroying of the Ring. 'This can not be happening,' she thought to herself.

* * *

"_So, Mélië's _(Q. Affectionate) _time has finally come. It is the beginning of her end," _a fair voice spoke with concern laced through it.

_"She chose her path the moment she received the gift. We can no more save her from this road as Man can step foot on Aman," _he comforted his spouse.

Both watched one of their most faithful servants as she began to step on a path she could not see leading her to a destiny that she had no idea would lead her to sorrow.

* * *

So you have to know who that mysterious elf is now. But a new mystery rises, who are these people talking in the end? How do they know Arnen? You'll find out…not in the next chapter or any in the near future. Keep reading, and let me know what you think. 


	10. Chapter 10

**Revised:** 8/25/07

**A/N:** To refresh your memory: When I left you Arnen was eavesdropping on the most influential council ever held in Middle Earth (in the T.A. that is). Oh…and there were a couple mysterious beings that popped up. Hmmmmm…

* * *

**Time Changes Everything…Except Leaves**

Lord Elrond sat inside of his study with many scouts standing before him.

"Scour the lands all around. We need to know what to expect. King Thranduil will need to be contacted; Lothlorien will need news of this as well. Aragorn, notify the Dúnedain of what is to take place. We could do with as many eyes watching as allies as we possibly can. The numbers of the enemy seem to be growing." Elrond looked at Gandalf sadly.

"Dismissed."

The autumn leaves of Imladris did not leave their homes bare as winter came, for trees of that realm only heeded two seasons: spring and fall. So instead of a landscape blanketed in snow, the deep richness of the treetops made a beautiful array of color. Elrond did not allow winter to enter. Few knew his reason, and those who did never mentioned it. So, as the cold wind came from the mountains, the leaves continued to fall but not diminish; yet there never seemed to be a heavy layer of them lying on the ground.

On a cool morning in December – when more scouts began to return from their journeys – Arnen woke early. The sky was just being painted by the sun's beautiful brush of light and from her window she could still faintly see Ithil and a few burning stars. Her mind was restless about what she heard in the council meeting. No one else seemed to know what had gone on right underneath their noses. It had been two months ago, but it felt like yesterday.

'Bilbo's true story came out. Frodo came in possession of the Ring when Bilbo went on his final adventure. Gollum has escaped – no – has been "rescued" from Mirkwood. Saruman has betrayed us. And probably the saddest thing of all: Frodo accepted a burden I am not sure he knows what it means to carry.'

Before Arnen could step any deeper into her reverie she ran into something. The unexpected jolt caused her to stumble back. A quick hand caught her, believing that she would fall but the woman just shook it off. She looked up at the one who had just brought her away from her thoughts. Aragorn stood before her with a smile on his face.

"Dear sister, you will have to be more careful. You were so far away in your mind I am sure you could have walked off a cliff and not have even known it."

Arnen just rolled her eyes, but her brother's companion caught her attention. It was the elf lord from Mirkwood. With curiosity she looked at Aragorn. The ranger could not help but chuckle. Slapping the elf on his back he announced, "Arnen, this is Legolas Greenleaf of Mirkwood, the second and youngest son of King Thranduil. Legolas, this is Arnen, my sister and a traveling companion of the Grey Company. But of course you two should remember each other."

Both elf and woman were shocked by the introductions. Arnen could almost kick herself for not recognizing him. Legolas, able to see her astonishment, knew he was not alone in his embarrassment. He would have recognized her other night if he had seen her eyes. Thinking back he wondered why he had not realized their unnatural color. The last time they met she was a child. The young one was newly named and adopted into Aragorn's family.

* * *

_The prince of Mirkwood strode into the library. He was told that he could find Aragorn there. His keen ears caught the turning of pages and his friend's voice reading aloud. Weaving through bookshelves he finally came upon the man. But Legolas was surprised to see a child sitting on his lap. The elf had heard stories of the girl Aragorn found by Bruinen. He cast a twinkling eye at his friend as he watched the way he lovingly held the little one in his arms. She was a plain child with raven hair and porcelain skin. A radiant smile was on her face as her new brother explained the colorful illustrations in the book. _

_Aragorn suddenly became aware that he was being watched. Looking up, he saw an elf dressed in traveling attire of green and brown. He smiled and motioned for him to come closer. To the child's dismay, he closed the book and stood up, setting her on the floor. Looking up, she saw the elf standing before her. She quickly dipped behind Aragorn's legs, only poking her head out a little to eye him cautiously. Legolas chuckled and advanced toward his friend._

_'Mae Govannen.'_

_'Mae Govannen, Legolas. Arnen come from behind me. You and I both know that you are not afraid of elves.'_

_The child pulled on Aragorn's sleeve making him bend down so that she could whisper in his ear. She had yet to master the art of whispering._

_'He is different. I do not know him.'_

_Legolas laughed. He knew why the child was so wary of him –true, she did not know him. Winking at Aragorn, Legolas knelt down and looked at the little girl hiding behind his leg. _

_'Do you know where Mirkwood is, Arnen?' _

_Black hair flopped in front of her eyes as she nodded her head._

_'That is my home. Elves from there are different than the elves of Rivendell.'_

_Arnen blushed. He knew that she realized her whisper wasn't quiet enough. Legolas laughed._

_'But you are quite different yourself. Your eyes are not so usual are they?'_

_'Ada says they remind him of Anor and Ithil.'_

_Legolas looked at her eyes closely. Yes, they did remind one of the two heavenly bodies. The color, of course, would be enough to make someone wonder, but it was the light. The light in her eyes gave him the impression that the fruits of the Trees had been formed in her orbs._

_'I agree with him, Menelhin.'_

_The child put her hands on her hips and looked at him intently._

_'My name is Arnen, not Man-il-hen,' Arnen stumbled over the foreign word._

_The ranger and his friend laughed heartily. The child glared up at her brother and began to stomp away._

_'Wait, little one. Wait,' Legolas said gently as he wiped the tears of mirth from his eyes, 'there is no need to be angry.'_

_Arnen turned around, gaze fixed on him. The elf drew near and knelt to look at her face._

_'It means "heaven-eyes".'_

* * *

A smile spread across his face. "Menelhin."

Arnen chuckled as she thought of that day in the library years ago. She had forgotten about the elf and also the play name he gave her.

"Mae Govannen, Prince Legolas. Welcome to Imladris."

"Ah!" he exclaimed with a twinkle in his eyes. "I see you have finally learned not butcher the elvish tongue. You almost do it justice."

Aragorn laughed, but Arnen did not see what was so humorous. She was only a child when they first came into contact. It was not fair that he was making fun of her. Strider knew his sister was not amused.

"Arnen, you must say that you really were terrible with the language. A dwarf would probably have done a better job."

The woman glared at her brother. A fire danced in her eyes, but Aragorn did not see it until it was too late. For a second time he found himself tackled to the ground. He laughed and wrestled with Arnen as a kitten would play with a ball of yarn. Yet even yarn is not so helpless. It can unravel and entangle the unsuspecting feline. Suddenly, Aragorn was pinned beneath his sister. She was seated firmly on his back while locking his hands in a surprisingly strong grip. The elven spectator clapped, congratulating Arnen on her success.

Aragorn could have easily reversed their positions but decided to let her have her moment. Wriggling beneath her in a signal to let him up he asked, "Who taught you to finally beat me? Whoever it was needs a firm lesson in how to keep woman ignorant of how to best their brother."

Arnen would have throttled any other man that said that, but it was only Aragorn. He was just getting warmed up for the day. She would not let him continue, though.

"Halbarad and I had tense moments a few times. Experience is the best teacher. Good day, Legolas. Again, welcome to Imladris."

With that she walked away. Arnen returned to her previous thoughts about the council. She was so deep in thought her treacherous feet had unexpectedly carried her somewhere she definitely did not want to be. Arnen cursed when she realized she was at the study of Lord Elrond. Before she could turn in another direction the door swung open with Gandalf on the other side. With a strong hand the wizard picked her up by the back of the collar, deposited her in the room, and shut the door behind them faster than Arnen could begin to let out any cry of surprise. Turning to him she was about to ask what he did that for but caught herself when she saw his eyes. The grey orbs were dancing with a dangerous light that she knew from its previous appearances. Immediately she shut her mouth. Gandalf only gave a nod of his head then led her gently to a seat before Elrond.

* * *

What was that all about? Anyway, now you know who the Mirkwood elf is for sure. For those of you who have read the book, I'm sure you knew who he was last chapter. I hope you enjoyed the chapter. 


	11. Chapter 11

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Lord of the Rings, Tolkien does. I only own characters not present in any of his works.

**A/N:** Hey, does anybody out there know how to speak elvish? Sindarin to be specific; it will be a big help for the story. If you do please let me know. I promise I won't pester you constantly I just need you to point me in the direction I should go (either on the internet or in a book store) so I can use the language properly. Quenyan would be a big help, too.

Arnen and Legolas formally met in the last chapter, but it was not the first time (they met when Arnen was first in Rivendell. After that, she was outside Lord Elrond's study door (by accident) when Gandalf suddenly opened the door, picked her up by the collar, and distributed her in the room. Now she is seated before the Lord of Imladris. Shall we begin?

* * *

**Destiny Has Come Knocking**

Arnen looked at the elf she called father and saw him in a different light; she could tell that he felt his full 6,580 years at the moment. The woman wondered at the fact that as a child she never seemed to care how old he was or who his father and mother were. Now, though, she was a different person. She had learned many things out in the world and one of them was that not every human knew powerful elf figures (or any elf for that matter). Many had heard of elves but believed them to be a myth, a fairy tale. But here was one of the most influential ones that walked Middle Earth sitting before her. His eternal youth never perplexed her, his piercing eyes that were gifted with foresight never baffled her; he just…was. He was a friend, a father, a mentor.

Elrond watched Arnen intently. She had not moved since Gandalf set her into the chair. He did not know what her focus of thought was, but she was looking at him with soft eyes. He recognized them from the Hên he knew from years before. Because he knew that now was not the time for memories that would obstruct his view of the circumstances at hand he kept forced them away. Sighing he grasped her hand gently.

"You have never been a successful eavesdropper in my house, Hên. I have always been able to catch you in the act and I always will."

Arnen felt her heart stop. 'This can not be good,' she thought. 'No wonder Gandalf grabbed me like that.' She sat stark still awaiting his judgment. It would obviously be a terrible dealing for what she overheard.

Elrond felt her skin grow cold. "Yes, I know you were at the council. I know that you heard nearly everything. I do not know how you got past the sentries I placed, but it does not matter now. What is done is done. Now I must render the consequence."

"Ada, please, I did not mean to come upon the council. I just heard something and it made me wonder what was going on. When I got up there I…please, ada," Arnen said in a frenzied plea.

"Hush, Arnen!" Gandalf's booming voice made Arnen contrite. She felt her worry build with the silence. The woman did not dare look up to meet those all seeing grey eyes.

"You will travel with them."

Her head shot up. "What!"

"You are to go with them until they reach Lothlórien. You are bound to travel that far. There you will do as the Lady Galadriel sees fit. This is my final judgment on this matter. It is not open for debate."

Arnen stared at the elf she had known for as long as could be remembered like he had just said that she should go and travel to the Forbidden Lands. She could not – correction – would not go on this journey. Traveling in the numbers of the Grey Company is one thing, but to go with a party that would obviously have only half of that numbers she was used to was another. In addition to that, this was no ordinary scouting-out-the-land or fighting-off-advancing-orcs trip.

"You cannot be serious. I am not equipped for this kind of journey. I am sure you will have plenty of help from those who can better suit this sort of… expedition. I must object – "

"This is not your decision, Arnen," Gandalf said solemnly. "It is a unanimous agreement between Lord Elrond and I. It is time for you to use the gifts that have been given to you. A call has been administered for you to come forward. You felt it the moment you returned to Rivendell, that you cannot deny."

And she could not deny it. When she had come home she felt a greater unease inside of her than the year she left. Now that the hour had arrived for her to come forward she was afraid. Arnen never did expect that this would be happening to her. She sighed with frustration, delight, and anxiety.

"When do we leave?"

* * *

_Later that morning_

Elrond finished speaking with the hobbits. The ten had been chosen. When the four Shire friends left his presence only Aragorn and Gandalf remained. Both wizard and elf lord knew that he had something to say, and they both knew it had to do with Arnen.

"I do not wish to question your wisdom on deciding who is permitted to be part of the Company of the Ring, but …" he hesitated.

"You may ask," said Elrond.

"Why would you have Arnen go? She is not nearly experienced enough. She has not truly witnessed terrors akin to the ones I am certain we will see, and her skill is not as great as it should be to travel with us."

"Neither are the hobbits' skills that great," Gandalf pointed out.

"Yes, but they are not…well they are not…"

"They are not your sister? They are not women? Is that what you are trying to say, Aragorn?" Elrond inquired gently.

Silence.

"Do not be so quick to judge. Arnen has hidden gifts that you will one day see. Underestimating her will do neither you nor her any good. But if you are so worried stay close to her. I promise, though, that it will only distract you from committing yourself to Frodo. There will be a time when you will have to choose between him and Arnen."

Aragorn bowed stiffly then turned to leave. Lord Elrond's voice caused him to stop before exiting the room.

"And remember, she is as dear to me as she is to you. I am at risk of losing someone I care for also if Arnen should not make it through this mission alive."

* * *

_December 24_

"You are to travel with the Company? Oh my, will that not be grand and so terrifying also?" spoke Irima gently while helping Arnen pack.

There were no festivities that night. A solemn gravity had settled upon everyone in Rivendell. Bruinen's mighty voice seemed to become dull with something close to sadness. The elves of Rivendell could not be heard singing or laughing. Cold wind blowing from the mountains did not bear its usual crispness. Nature and all her inhabitants understood that the usual gaiety was not to be had in a season such as this. Arnen could feel it more keenly than other humans and even many elves. The wood spoke to her as did the water. The wind whispered his concerns and the earth trembled in anticipation for what was to come.

"Yes, I agree with you, my friend," she whispered as well.

Leaving the elleth, she went down to the blacksmith that resided by the river. Cam lagor (S. _quick hand)_ handed her the blade that was given to her by Halbarad. Maebuian was the first and only sword Arnen had ever received. Constant use had dulled the original gleam of the weapon; the hilt was worn in such a way that it fit her fingers but it left the sword a little imbalanced. Now, as the blacksmith handed it to her, she saw it restored to a beauty she had known was in the iron somewhere. The fire used to heat metals glinted off the surface of the blade dangerously. Arnen thrust and arched her friend-in-battle experimentally; the air sang as it was being cut.

Before she slept she made a silent prayer to Eru, "Deliver us from all evil and protect our path." For what else can one pray at an hour like that?

Legolas stood near his friend as they waited for Gandalf to come from the hall and see them off. He knew that Aragorn was thinking heavy thoughts that should not be broken, but the elf was curious as to how a woman was permitted to join the quest. Quickly he glanced to where Arnen stood beside the hobbits. She had on a dark grey cloak with a star brooch pinned upon her left shoulder. Her hood was pulled up and she seemed a bit nervous to Legolas. Resolving to speak with her, he made his way over to the tree she leaned against.

* * *

Arnen saw him coming from the corner of her eye. Her pulse sped up; at the moment she did not want to speak with anyone – which was why she was extremely happy that the youngest hobbit was not as curious as he was famed to be. But, she knew that the elf was coming to speak with her. Arnen checked her patience level and waited for his approach.

"Mae Govannen, Arnen."

"Mae Govannen," she raised from the tree.

"How are you feeling?"

Arnen could have punched him. The elf had come over to make small talk?! He had actually asked her, 'How are you feeling?', as if they were not waiting to be sent off on one of the most perilous – if not almost utterly hopeless – tasks anyone could even consider taking on. The wanderer could not believe the stupidity of his question. _'Maybe he is just as nervous as you are, Arnen,'_ said a little voice in her head. Arnen shook her head at the statement. There was no way that the elf standing before her was just as anxious as she was. He had seen many battles; he had been through many wars; he was a captain in his father's army, not just because of his royal blood, but also because he had actual skill. Yet, all of that did not make his question any less…stupid. And she said so.

"That, Prince Legolas, was the stupidest question anyone could ever ask me on an occasion like this, and I believe that you knew it to be so before you let it part from your lips."

Legolas could not believe his ears. When he asked her the question he saw her face drop slightly. What he expected, though, was for her to say how she was nervous, not insult him. The elf lord would have let his jaw drop if it wasn't for the years and years of training in proper conduct. Arnen looked at him coolly before going to her brother's side to make him rise for Gandalf and Elrond had come from the house.

Aragorn jumped at the sudden contact of his sister-turned-walking-companion. Not because he was surprised, but her touch was warm on his shoulder even through the layers of his clothing. Taking her hand in his he realized it was burning up. The ranger's forehead scrunched up in worry as he took her face into his hand and felt for a fever. Seeing her confusion at his actions he asked her, "Are you well, Hên? Your hands were warm; it made me think that maybe you are sick and will not say anything. You can get to Lothlórien another time and by another road, if you cannot come with us."

Arnen cursed silently. She had not realized that the euphonious humming had started inside of her bones after her talk with Legolas. The foolish elf had triggered her temper at a time that it really was not the best thing to do. Flashing a quick glare in his direction she pulled Aragorn's calloused palms from her cheeks. Kissing him on the crown of his head she reassured him.

"I was just beside the fire inside longer than the rest of you. I never was a big fan of the cold. When winter would come while I was with the Company I would stay in Bree, or close to it, so I would not have to deal with the bite of the season."

"Yes, I remember now. You would spend most of your time in the Hall of Fire while you listened to Erestor teach one of his many history lessons when you were here."

The woman smiled sadly as she remembered a time of her life that seemed so far in the past. Pulling on a pair of gloves that Arwen had given her, she turned away. The material the Lady of Rivendell had created, she knew, would keep her hands warm in any weather. Years of experimenting had resulted in the perfect combination of weaving and stitching that would protect against all cold and most moisture. Elrond had offered everyone warm clothes, jackets and cloaks lined with fur. Arnen was the only one to turn down the cloak. She was attached to the grey cloak and it held a certain amount of sentimental value for her.

She wrapped it around her shoulders and stood up to receive the final words of council the Lord of Imladris had to offer along with the nine others who knew her not for who she truly was. The ten travelers would come to be closer in their dealings with one another than any of them could have ever imagined.

* * *

I really hope that you liked this one. Let me know. 


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N:** I commend the authors who have enough creativity to do pre/post-war stories, they keep the site interesting and give me hope that maybe I can create a story line just as interesting.

So, the Fellowship was just about to start off right…

* * *

**A False Start to a Good Start**

No one spoke as they walked down the Road towards Bruinen. Elves stood beside the path and sat among tree branches sending silent farewells to the Fellowship. They looked stunning against the backdrop of ancient trees. Their faces were solemn, and it would break your heart to see some of the elflings' faces scrunched up with silent tears. Wise blue and grey eyes pierced each one of the companions' souls. The hobbits squirmed under the intense gazes, except Frodo whose mind was on other things at the moment.

Glorfindel was one who followed alongside the Fellowship as far as he could. Another figure followed on the other side of them, hidden amongst the trees, which Aragorn tried to ignore. Arnen continually slipped her eyes from the figure to him.

"Namaarie (_Farewell_)," a gentle whisper called from the elf in the shadows.

"Guren nallatha nalú le achenin (_My heart shall weep until I see thee again_)," Aragorn silently replied as he fingered Evenstar about his neck.

A wind from the west blew through the branches as the Fellowship left the road at the Ford of Bruinen and turned south. Leaving after only just returning home was hard for the woman companion.

'Do not ever look back, Arnen,' Halbarad had told her over and over as they traveled. 'There is no use in torturing yourself. Do not look back to the past; do not look back to your old home. The road may seem lonely and it is. But not paying attention will land you in danger. And we cannot have that, can we?'

"No we cannot," Arnen whispered to herself gently. Reluctantly she pulled her tearing eyes away from the beautiful Bruinen and set them on the road ahead.

"What was that, Arnen?" Aragorn asked, having heard her voice.

With a wry smile she simply shook her head and continued to walk.

* * *

Setting up camp was like heaven for Pippin and Merry. They still were not accustomed to traveling, so such a far distance covered in five days made them sore straight to the bone. Plopping down, the cousins sighed contentedly when Boromir sparked a fire and Aragorn started the meal. No one spoke and an uncomfortable silence settled as everyone waited for someone else to start talking.

Gandalf's eyes twinkled as he sat back, amused with the foolishness of the situation. A small laugh threatened to escape from his lips. When reaching into his pocket for a little pipe-weed out of the corner of his eye he saw Legolas approach a lone form sitting atop a broad, moss covered rock. His attention settled in that direction, feeling he may be needed

Legolas stood beside the rock waiting to be recognized. Tension rose in the air the longer he waited, but the prince would not back down. Patiently he watched the stubborn human battle a fiery temper down.

"Yes?" the woman sighed a little harshly.

The elf smiled. "May I join you?"

"Do I have a choice?"

"Certainly."

Turning her grey-gold orbs on him she answered sharply, "Then no. I would rather be alone, Legolas." With that she turned her face to the fire. The other members had finally started talking with the Shire being their focus. Arnen was close enough to hear but far enough away that she didn't have to engage in the conversation – or for anyone to save her from the dialogue at hand, to her dismay. Sam beamed proudly as he told of his home's handsome foliage and his Gaffer's wisdom. Pippin was practically bubbling with excitement while trying to put in the history of how he was related to this hobbit and that hobbit. Merry's stories were of the Brandybuck household. Frodo even joined in with tales from Bilbo that none had heard before.

'Dammit, he is still standing there!' she thought, frustrated. He was situated majestically by the rock, his presence silently mocking her. Blonde locks were bound behind his neck and the royal weaving of his braids was simpler than what she remembered seeing that night in the garden.

"What do you want, elf?"

"To talk, human," he jested.

Arnen shot daggers with her eyes. All the prince did was smile gently. Jumping up she had to lift her head to look at his face.

"Listen, _prince_," she spat out his title like it was poison, surprising Legolas, "I would like my space, as I have _already_ mentioned, and I would appreciate it if you would give me some."

"You are not helping the situation," he spoke calmly.

"And you are getting on my nerves."

"I apologize for ever offending you, which I did unintentionally."

His composure irked Arnen to no end. Pushing him out of the way she tried to go back to the group. But, Legolas was too quick. He turned her around by the arm and gripped her softly. She was just about to punch him when his other hand caught her fist and held it gently. Feeling a little trapped her irritation rose and a humming began in her chest.

"Let go!" she commanded softly so the others would not worry.

"Not until we talk."

"About what?"

Legolas was glad to have made some progress, even though he did not like the fact that he had to hold the woman still just so he could get through this. He wondered at the stubbornness of the human race.

"Ever since we left Rivendell you have avoided me. If we are going to be around each other until the Fellowship reaches Lothlórien I would like to know that you will not try to strangle me over a slip of the tongue. Now, I have apologized for offending you, unintentionally I might add, so it is your turn."

The whole time Legolas spoke Arnen struggled to stop the humming, but when she actually gave heed to his words the sound ceased on its own. Her mind was so preoccupied that she did not notice the silence for a few moments. When she saw him watching her, she realized he was waiting for a reply.

"Alright, apology accepted."

Legolas still held onto her. "What?" she asked.

"You do not have anything else to say?"

Arnen looked met his stormy-grey eyes with confusion. "No."

"Telcoer (_stubborn one_)," he sighed beneath his breath and let her go with a shake of his head.

Arnen decided to ignore his remark and headed toward Aragorn. Gandalf, though, beckoned to her. Sitting at his left she saw him reach inside his cloak and pull out a familiar vial. She groaned then stood to leave. The old wizard grabbed her by the back of her cloak and pulled her down again. His large hand pressed the vial into her palms giving her a meaningful look with his grey orbs. Arnen held his gaze with the same amount of decisiveness.

"Hên, I will not let a branch of this tree to fall on my head because you lose your temper."

"I am fine, Gandalf."

"The way that fire decided to burn a little brighter while you spoke with Legolas would suggest differently," he warned.

The woman laughed, trying to reassure the wizened wizard. "Everything is alright now. As you can see the fire is back to normal, the earth is in proper order and the tree has not assaulted you."

Gandalf closed her fingers around the pale blue, curing liquor. The crystal prism was fit neatly in her hand. "Keep it, just in case."

Giving him a little peck on the cheek, Arnen walked back to the fire and sat down beside Aragorn. Legolas, seated to her left, passed her a plate of food – which he prepared for her – with a wink. Thanking him, she settled beside her brother and followed the flow of the conversation. She did not notice that Aragorn was looking at her peculiarly.

The ranger was surprised at the sudden metamorphosis in the exchanges of his sister and Legolas. He watched as they fell into discussion about various histories of the Elves and Númenóreans. They had suddenly become comfortable with one another at some point in the two hours that had past since setting up camp. When Legolas rose to retrieve his bow, it being relevant to their debate concerning weaponry, Aragorn pulled Arnen into a hug.

"I guess this means that the argument by the rock resulted in your pardoning one ignorant of your high standards? How can the world live up to you, nethig?" he teased.

His knowing about the argument stunned her a bit because she thought his back was turned to them. Choosing not to ask him how he knew, she leaned into his hug and nodded her head. Receiving a kiss atop her head he let her go when the elf prince returned. The carrier of the bow sat across from Arnen.

"This is, obviously, a Mirkwood bow. See, the curve is less defined than the bows of Rivendell, but the wood is more malleable. So it is harder to break and easier to string."

Gently Arnen ran her digits across the finger impressions at the middle of the bow's arc. Legolas clearly loved it dearly. It was beautiful. Scrolling along the wood from the zenith of the weapon to the point where the bowman's index finger rests was inscribed: Le maethor veleg ah 'ornui - Le pengor vaen a vaecheneb - Garo nin - Avaro naeth - Si a thûr - Gurth enin goth (_You are a mighty and brave warrior. You are a skilled and sharp-eyed archer. Hold onto me. Don't worry. Now to victory! Death to the enemy!_). Passing her finger to the end of the bow she saw inscribed there its name, E-nbaudh (_The_ _Judgment_).

She smirked at the engravings in the amber wood. They were enough to get someone's head mighty big with their own importance. Of course, she would reserve judgment for when she actually saw his skill. Arnen may have been terrible with the bow, but she knew how to gauge a bowman's strengths and weaknesses very well. She could even critique the person. But give her a bow and a target at the regulation competition distance and she would not be able to hit the bulls-eye to save her life.

"This bow was given to me by my father before I went into my first battle. I was young then, full of excitement, ready to prove myself as a warrior."

Arnen could not help but hear the almost nonexistent wry note in his tone. Looking up from the bow she saw that he was walking on the paths of yesterday – as Irima liked to call it – for his eyes were an even deeper grey and his pupils were dilated. She felt touched that he would share part of his past even when she still did not apologize for her coldness during the week.

'Maybe I will apologize.'

"I will honestly say that I was scared out of my mind when I saw those orcs and spiders coming through the trees. Training only did so much for me at that time. Instructors fight fair and try not to give you any fatal wounds, even when you are sparring. But in battle it was confusing; the enemy did not care about the ethics of battle. It was either kill anyway that you can or be killed in any way.

He laughed. "When the battle was done, though, and I saw that the stars were still there; when I saw we had victory, I knew that battle was not as terrible as it seemed. To gain peace there must be bloodshed at times, no?"

His pupils contracted and his eyes turned from the green of a forest to their original stormy hue. Seeing this, Arnen unbuckled her belt holding the scabbard and sword at her hip. Pulling Maebuian from its resting place she handed it to Legolas. The elf took it to examine the blade and hilt. Down the middle of the steel he saw the battle cry 'Gurth gothrim Tel' Mithrim' (_Death to the foes of the Grey Company_) was etched. Just above the hilt on one side was the sword's name, Maebuian (_I serve well.)_, and on the other 'Im buiron nín' (_I am your servant_).

"This was given to me by Halbarad, captain of the Grey Company. I am sure you met him when you went out with the scouts. It was my 18th birthday and I was finally of the age that they actually take one in as a "member", if you would. He said, 'For a woman, your skills with the blade are exceptionally worth building upon. Besides, Magien, I have a feeling that you are going to join us in battle soon.' And, you know, he was right. That same day we engaged with a band of orcs getting too close to the Shire. This sword has served me well since day one. I could not have asked for a better weapon."

"So, it is true that you were a member of the Grey Company?" Legolas asked, slightly amused by the fact that the woman sitting before him was as capable as a ranger should be.

Arnen puffed up slightly, hearing the laughter in his tone, "I am _still_ a member of the Grey Company."

The elf prince looked startled at the sudden change in Arnen. She sat wrapped in her misty cloak with eyes gleaming and the brooch on her shoulder sparkling. Yes, she did look like one of the Dúnedain, besides the fact that her features were feminine. Nonetheless, Legolas doubted her ability was efficient for the trials ahead.

Arnen saw the look in his eyes. It was the same one Halbarad had in his when she first went into battle – doubt. Setting her jaw, she gently took her sword from Legolas and returned it to the homely scabbard. Then, standing up abruptly she stalked to her bedroll beside Aragorn.

A pipe was set between Aragorn's lips, which curved slightly when he observed his younger sister's change of mood. His eyes silently inquired from Legolas's, but observing that his friend was just as in the dark as to the reason why Arnen's temper had flared again, he smoothed down her hair and wrapped his blanket around her. Golden cheeks raised at the gentle force of his sister's grateful smile.

The night was silent. Watch was set and the camp settled. None were aware of the friend that sat near them, an eleventh traveler. He knew of the abomination that they carried and how their woman companion was weaved in its story more intimately than any of the group, even Frodo and Aragorn.

* * *

I hope you enjoyed it. 


	13. Chapter 13

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Lord of the Rings. Tolkien owns it all. I only lay claim to the characters not found in any of his works.

**A/N:** In the last chapter, Legolas and Arnen became friends after a little arguing. This lasted all of an hour and then Arnen went back to hating him. Oh well…

* * *

**Apologies**

_January 8, 3019 T.A._

Frodo could feel the gold circle trying to touch the rocks of those hills. It was trying to break away again, as if just hitting the ground would send a message to its master of their whereabouts.

"Must not let it hit the ground, Frodo," he continued to murmur over and over.

Arnen cast a worried glance at the young hobbit before her. She had come to love the little one dearly during her watches of the Shire. He was sagacious and well-learned thanks to Bilbo and Gandalf. Just as she, he was an orphan of sorts and because of that she felt a connection with him.

Heat spread across the back of her neck. The ranger looked back and caught the Gondorian watching her intently. Arnen turned around quickly. He always made her heart ache with longing to be with the Company again. Funny that it did not do that with Aragorn or even Gandalf.

Boromir was like Halbarad in many ways: appearance, attitude, and prejudices. The captain was one who did not trust easily, but once it was gained he would be a true friend. Such was the case between him and the hobbits. At first Boromir did not like the 'halflings' – he still called them by the name, even though it was more of an endearment than it originally was – but now he cared for them as he would for his kinsmen, especially Merry and Pip.

Arnen focused her attention on the forest, the rocks, anything to get her mind off of the past. She noticed recently that her thoughts flew to Halbarad frequently, and the revelation made her infinitely uncomfortable. At the oddest moments she would remember his smile or the way he laughed after one of their skirmishes. Her body stood with the Fellowship as her mind rode with the Company.

'One day you will have to be in one place and not the other. One day you will have to choose,' spoke her heart.

'Why must I choose, this will only last until Lothlórien. Then, after I am finished there, I will return to my Company and go back to life as it was known.'

'First you longed for adventure,' her mind sighed. 'Then, when you got it, you longed to be home. When you were home again you wanted to stay but also felt you did not belong. Now that you are out again you are longing to be with the Company. Ai, Arnen, you will never be satisfied.'

'No, I will never be satisfied. Not even in death will my soul rest, I fear.'

"Arnen."

The prince wondered what it was that occupied her thoughts. What was it that caused her to lose the focus he admired in both her and Aragorn? While the rest of the Fellowship stopped, she continued to go on. He could sense the moment when her thoughts wandered and he knew the danger of an absent mind. Risking the furthering of her anger toward him, Legolas left his position beside Aragorn and went to her side.

The woman jumped to the physical world again when she saw Legolas at her left.

"Hm?"

She did not seem a bit disoriented by the sudden intrusion of her thoughts. This irked him. If anyone did the same to him it would have taken a minute or so before he could regain complete control of his mind. Shaking off his irritation, the elf pulled her hood up over ears red from cold and winked.

His considerate gesture caused Arnen to remember why she was upset with him. Sure, she was aware of the fact that she was a woman. Most certainly, she knew that women were usually less able than men when it came to battling. Above all, she knew that the way she was acting was childish – Gandalf, and even the elf himself, insisted on reminding her of the fact daily.

But, was not Lúthien a woman? Was not she the one that risked her life to retrieve one of the Silmarils from the clutches of Morgoth, the first and most powerful Dark Lord of Middle Earth? And what of Galadriel? Did she not also fight when she was forced, and was she not still alive to tell the tale? Do not many elf-maidens have the choice of training alongside the men? Were there not woman in her own race that fought to defend their homes, to defend their families?

If they were able to do it, then why could she not? Why was she pushed from men's minds when it came to considering the few maidens who rise up for battle? Certainly, she was not a name whispered across the land because her dealings were done in secret, which was the way of a ranger. But why was it that because she was a woman she was thought less of?

Legolas could feel the sudden change in her attitude. He could almost feel the daggers she was throwing at him in the dark. Biting his tongue, he went back to his original station.

'Being apart from my race seems to have clouded my judgment. Of course she does not need help; she is one of the Afterborn, the Mortals. Why would she want assistance from an elf?' sarcasm echoed in his head.

Legolas scowled. He continued in his dark mood until he heard Gandalf speak.

"…There is a wholesome air about Hollin. Much evil must befall a country before it wholly forgets the Elves, if once they dwelled there."

Hollin. It was a forgotten jewel, a land once called Eregion. Holly trees, beautiful and solemn; their green-grey trunks mimicked the stones sitting on rolling hills. Elves once dwelled there. They were smiths, the race that graced that land, the ones that created the Rings of Power; the ones that taught Sauron the art of crafting magical jewelry. The fellowship had stepped into the place where their eternal enemy first began to device his plans of the Ring.

"That is true. The Elves of this land were of a race strange to us of the sylvan folk, and the trees and the grass do not remember them. Only I hear the stones lament them: _deep they delved us, fair they wrought us, high they builded us; but they are gone. _They are gone. They sought the Havens long ago," Legolas sighed to the sky. Wisps of his breath carried on the wind and dissipated before reaching the pale sky. His eyes sparkled with an unadorned smile.

* * *

"For the Shire! Hold him! Hold him, Merry!" yelled little Pippin, sandy locks bouncing about. His fists rained down on Boromir's chest while the man laughed and wrestled with him and Merry. Aragorn laughed as he watched the happy sight. Laughter was a thing he had abandoned once, but now he claimed it as a happy companion. Turning away he saw Legolas speaking with his younger sister. No, it looked more like arguing.

"What must I do?" Arnen heard Legolas ask from behind her head.

"I have not a clue what you are talking about," she said, turning on him with flashing eyes. She was ready for a fight. In fact, she wanted to fight the elf. He had gotten on her bad side one too many times. If he were Halbarad and not the prince that he was she would have already given him a clean right hook in the jaw. 'Maybe that is all I need to do: fight him. It worked with that infuriating ranger so well. I let off steam and he got to have a laugh,' she mused.

"Of course you do not. I should not have to do anything to be in your good graces. Truly, I do not even know why I bother. You are obviously just cold-hearted," Legolas knew he should not have said it, but his elven patience was worn.

Arnen was taken aback by his words. This form of battle was new to her. No one had ever warred by using words with her before. Sure, there were barbs and usually she was not hurt when someone who did not know her well insulted her; for some reason Legolas's words struck a nerve…and that made her angrier.

"Fine, prince, now that you have let out your true opinion of me it's my turn," her voice was ice. "You strut around all high and mighty because you are an elf. Well guess what? No one cares. You are a royal pain in the ass and I have had it up to here with your criticism."

"Ha! I think I am high and mighty? Are not you the one who wears that cloak that you got when you were a sapling, which you still are, making sure everyone knows that you are part of the Grey Company? You think all people should be impressed with the fact that you have fought in battles even though you are a woman. Talk about a pain in the ass. Stop being so focused on yourself. Look around you. We are here for one reason: to destroy the Ring. Why are you here? To add something else on the list of things that you have done, though they pale in light of what your companions here have done?

"You do not even respect the authority Gandalf has over you. When he tells you to go do something you protest until you get your own way. And you are even worse with Aragorn! He may be your brother but you do not listen to him as a sister should. If you will not listen to him as a brother, obey him as your king; even though he has not claimed the crown, one day he will. Or do you give loyalty to no one but those who serve your purpose?"

Arnen shook in rage. How dare he? The elf knew nothing of her life. He knew nothing of her character or who she was. The woman stepped forward and hissed into his face.

"Wake up and understand this, elf, you are not in Mirkwood anymore. You are out in the real world with real people. You are not all-seeing and you most certainly are not all-knowing, so how would you know what I have done? You do not know a thing when it comes to me.

"This cloak was made by a true friend who cared about me. Eru forbid if I choose to wear it in his memory. And regarding my gender, are you not being a bit hypocritical or am I paranoid in believing that you think the fairer sex should not fight even if they have the ability to do so?

"My relationship with Gandalf and how I choose to carry out orders is none of your concern. And Aragorn and I have come to an agreement: If I know I must, I will. If he is being over-protective then I will not. Above all, he is my brother but not my king, and it will always be that way.

"So, stay the hell out of my life and I will stay out of yours, Taraer (_Haughty One_)."

"Buiach? (_Do you promise?_) Ai, the absence of you would grieve me so," sarcasm poured from his lips.

"Careful, son of Thranduil, you have no clue who you are dealing with," Arnen said as she felt the humming begin to grow in her chest.

Giving her a mock bow the elf finally stormed away.

When he was finally gone Arnen's knees buckled under the strain of wills within her. She wanted to unleash all the anger she had inside on the head of Legolas. She knew the emotions inside of her were dangerous. She knew that holding it against her brother's best friend was horrible. She knew harboring this feeling against anyone, good or evil, was enough to destroy someone.

"Arnen?" A gravelly voice asked her sternly.

The woman looked up at her teacher's wizened face and slowly stood. His rough hands pulled on her chin to make her eyes meet his. Upon seeing the burning eyes he quickly pulled out a vial of Helwa. She had not taken it daily as she once had, and, in his opinion, did not need it anymore. But now it was an emergency. Gandalf was surprised when she not only grabbed it from him but also drank down the whole vial without gagging.

'So, she does not like feeling resentment against the young prince. This, at least, is a good sign.'

When she finished he commanded silently, "Apologize."

"No."

"Apologize, Arnen."

"No."

"You do not have a choice in this."

Arnen stared at the wizard stubbornly.

"Arnen, you _will_ apologize! Not only for what you said today but for everything you have ever said before! Legolas has been lenient and ever so patient with you. He put up with more than I would have. He may be wrong in some of his assumptions of your character but that is only because you have shown yourself to be exactly as he described. Now, you will go over to him and ask for his pardon, or so help me I will beat you black and blue for being such an ass."

Arnen's eyes got big when he was finished. It was just a day full of firsts was it not? An elf insulted her and Gandalf called her an ass. She walked past him reluctantly and went toward Legolas. But her progress stopped when he cried, "Crebain from Dunland!"

"Hide!" Aragorn commanded. The camp jumped into action. Packs were thrown beneath scraggily bushes while Sam put out the fire. Arnen felt herself dragged beneath a bush just in time. The crows circled overhead twice. They were like midnight and just a little smaller than a hobbit…a very little. Their cawing echoed off of the boulders and Arnen cringed against Boromir – who was the one that pulled her beneath the bush – when she felt the foul wind their wings stirred up. The birds left as quickly as they came.

"The passage south is being watched," Gandalf growled. "We must take the Pass of Caradhras."

* * *

"Of course it would not work for us. Of course we would have to end up going into a cave that will swallow us whole and never let us out again."

"Aw, shut your mouth, Pip, and keep walking," snapped Merry. "You are not the only one that's still wet and tired. None of us wants to go in that dark place, especially not Gandalf. If he does not like it then I do not like it either."

"You have forgotten, young masters," Arnen whispered to them, "Gimli is overjoyed to be going there."

The cousins looked at the dwarf before them. He began walking with a skip in his step when Frodo decided they would go through Moria. He was now beside his elven friend telling him stories of childhood.

"That is right, master Elf, you heard me correctly. I have never had a liking for trees. They are used for fires, axe handles and the like. Their wood and leaves hold no beauty to my people. Give us a mine full of jewels and there you will find happy Dwarfs."

Arnen strode up beside Gimli. "Ah, Gimli, your mind will soon be changed about the beauty of trees."

"That is impossible, lass."

"That is the same response you gave me concerning you liking elves one day. Now look at you, if you can like this elf I believe anything is possible." She gave him a wink.

Gimli roared with laughter. "Aye, she is right about that, laddie. She is right about that."

Arnen looked up at Legolas and met his cold eyes. Sighing, she ran a hand through her hair nervously.

"Naethen, (_I'm sorry_)"she whispered.

"I can take a hint. You do not have to speak in that Elf tongue. I will be out of your way," grunted Gimli as he walked further ahead.

Legolas was the one to close the space between them.

"I _am_ sorry, Legolas. I have been terrible to you right from the beginning. I am really not all that bad, it is just that you seem to get under my skin easily…But that is no excuse for the way I acted and, so, I am sorry."

There was a long pause. Arnen thought he did not accept her apology and was about to start up the arguing again when he said, "I am sorry, too…human"

Smiling, Arnen saw that his eyes were warm and friendly when he looked at her.

"You are not so bad, elf. If you continue to be so gracious I just might start to like you."

Legolas laughed.


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N:** Alright. Last time we were together Arnen and Legolas got into a colossal argument but everything fell back into order in the end. On we go…

* * *

**Wargs!**

_January 13, 3019 T.A._

In the early hours of the day they heard howling on the air. Wargs were tracking them; an attack started only half an hour later. They were everywhere, hideous creatures with ragged grey hair and bulking bodies. Their mouths were foaming; their fangs were like daggers.

Arnen was sleeping when they came. When she finally remembered who she was and figured out why Boromir was dragging her to her feet, the woman jumped into action. Drawing sword from scabbard she ran to join the fight. The wolves were bigger close up…much bigger. Arnen was forced to duck and fall back as the warg's giant paws swiped at her. Its gaping mouth tried to snap close around her neck more times than the ranger-woman felt comfortable. She could smell its breath, stinking of putrid flesh and piss.

It was hard for her to get her sword into the creature at all, let alone breathe. But finally the animal left an opening. She plunged the blade into its shoulder and through its heart causing black blood to splatter her face. Pulling the steel out quickly, Arnen hurried to the next warg and decapitated it with one fell swoop. When she looked up from the carcass Arnen did not have enough time to react when another warg leaped atop her.

She could feel herself bruise from the force of coming in contact with the ground. Taking a dagger from her hip she plunged the weapon into the beast's eye. Yelping, it fell to its side. Arnen tried to leap up only to collapse in lightheadedness. Yet another warg caught sight of her and ran to take advantage of weakened prey. Seeing the creature Arnen threw all caution to the wind and finally used her greatest weapon.

* * *

The hobbits stood back to back about a fire that blazed to reveal the enemy. Frodo noticed that Sting glowed light blue which confused him for he did not see any orcs, but they had to be there for the crafts of the Elves were never wrong. Seeing this he trembled, hoping that his faith in Gandalf's abilities would not be disappointed. The wizard grabbed a burning branch and cry, "Naur an edraith ammen! Naur dan i ngauhoth!"

At the same time he heard another voice yell, "Nao naur!"

Frodo turned in time to see a warg burst into flames before Arnen and become a pile of ashes within seconds. The hobbit's eyes bulged and he dropped his sword. Just then, the trees about the top of the hill burst into flame, yielding to Gandalf's command. The wargs fled the hilltop.

"That was an eye-opener, and no mistake! Nearly singed the hair off of my head!" Sam said in half-awe and half-relief.

"Mr. Frodo?" he asked, picking up his master's sword. "Are ya' feeling fine? Ya' lookin' a tad pale."

Frodo Baggins shook himself off and smiled wearily at Sam. He was not sure if what he saw was a part of Gandalf's spell, or if Arnen did it. In his questions a memory came to him that only did when he saw Strider's sister in moonlight.

* * *

_November 17, 3017 T.A._

_Stars winked in the night sky. A night owl hooted from the branches overhead. Frodo walked deep in concentration, his only light being the harvest moon's silver rays. Few wondered down the path he now traveled, and no one ever did so at night. But he was already considered odd; it would not do his reputation much harm if he decided to take a walk._

_He could not sleep. His dreams were riddled with vague shapes and murky places. Frodo knew there was something to them, but the answer was just beyond his reach. It was teasing him and taunting him, pulling him from his bed. This was the fourth night in a row that he wandered with his walking stick and grey cape. The hood kept the cold night air from his ears._

_Unexpectedly, Frodo heard a soft voice coming to him through the trees. The hobbit was drawn to the sound. One step after another led him off of the path and to a clearing where he saw a figure draped in shadow. From its hands shone a pure white light; it looked as if it held a star. Frodo's eyes widened in wonder, then, he stepped on a twig._

_The figure's head jerked up from it hands and he could see that its eyes were glowing. A high pitched ringing pierced the air. Frodo covered his ears to block out the terrible sound. The black shape suddenly dropped the light from its hands and threw itself upon Frodo. He struggled to wriggle away until he heard a small explosion. The person stood after a few moments and tucked Frodo underneath his arm._

_He would have kicked, he would have screamed, but there was something about the stranger that made him stay quiet. He seemed to know where he was going, whoever he was, and Frodo found that he was soon set down on the path. Looking up at the hooded being he just stared at him. His eyes were glowing. Literally, his eyes were radiating a soft light. Frodo could not utter a word of thanks before the figure turned to leave._

* * *

Now that Frodo thought back he wondered, was it Arnen's voice that he heard that night? Was Arnen the stranger with the light in her palms? Was it Arnen tonight that caused that warg to burst into flame? And if it was, who else saw, who else knew?

"Frodo," Strider said, "We have to start out."

His mind would just have to be at rest. The answers to his questions would come at another time. He would simply ask Gandalf the next time they stopped to rest.

* * *

"We forgot the sausages!"

"Shut it, Pip! Less talking, more running," yelled Merry.

"Maybe it will fill one of 'em up a bit so that it won't go gnawing on you, laddie," laughed a huffing Gimli. He was so ecstatic on the fact that he would soon be in the halls of Moria that the chase was trivial to him. The rest wished they could feel the same.

Arnen winced with every step. She was more relieved than the hobbits once Gandalf said they had almost reached Moria. When they stopped for a quick meal she gingerly sat down. Upon trying to lying against her bag while eating she cried out in pain. Legolas, who was in a conversation with Gimli, quickly jumped up and went to her side. Arnen pushed the elf away when he knelt down to help her up. Unfortunately, this triggered more searing pain in her back and she flopped onto her bag. Of course, she only received a heightened amount of hurting. Arnen moaned.

"You are pathetic and stubborn," Legolas laughed. "Now, allow me to help you."

"I do not need any, ohhhhh," she moaned again.

"You were saying?"

The woman cut her eyes at him. "Just get me up, elf."

Legolas avoided touching her back and shoulders as he helped her stand up. Even though she tried to refuse it, he had her take his arm and he led the way to Aragorn. The ranger's face was still streaked with blood and his ebony hair stuck to his face from the journey-produced sweat. When he saw his sister wincing as she walked, he immediately set aside his food and took her from Legolas so she could sit beside him.

"Where?" he asked simply.

"My back."

Aragorn saw blood on her shirt when she took her cloak off. Thankfully, it was on her lower back, which would save him time and embarrassment.

"Lie on your stomach."

When he lifted her shirt just enough to get to the wound, he grimaced. It was not bad, but it was more than what he ever wanted to see his little sister have.

"I know you do not like that I have it, but I am here so it cannot be helped. Just cleanse it and wrap me up so we can be on our way."

Aragorn smiled. They knew one another too well. Taking the last of his food, he stuck it underneath her nose and gave her his fork. Wrapping her up, his grey orbs twinkled with mirth as he watched the woman eat it hungrily.

"You have to stop sneaking the hobbits your food when they are not looking, nethig, if you want to live long enough to get to Lothlórien. I swear to you this: Pippin will live if you do not give him any of your food. He does not need that much to eat."

"I just feel bad for them. They are not used to all this. You do not have to say it," she stopped him as he opened his mouth to say something. "I know that they are a hardy bunch and can adapt well. You have told me that enough times that it will never leave me."

"Promise me, Arnen, that you will stop doing this."

"Very well, but you will be the one to deal with my comments of how miserable they look for not eating more."

"I agree. Alright, you can sit up now. How did this happen?"

"A warg jumped on top of me."

"Next time," Aragorn said as the Fellowship began to walk, "do not answer a question you know I do not want to hear the answer to."

Arnen laughed at her brother's uneasiness.


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N: **Last time we were together, the Fellowship was attacked by wargs. Frodo believed he saw Arnen cast a spell to save her life (which she did). And we found out that Frodo has seen Arnen before Rivendell, even though it was a complete accident, but, once again, he is unsure. Alrighty then…

* * *

**That Which Darkness Reveals**

"Holly trees? Here? With this terrible water I am surprised to see any plant that would wish to take root here."

Arnen gazed at the strong sentries standing before the Walls of Moria. They towered above her head, majestic and undoubtedly flourishing. Their water did not come from that of the dammed valley; they would have been poisoned years ago. She lightly stepped to them and placed a hand on the bark. Grazing her fingers lovingly down their trunks she admired their resilience against the harsh world. They not only held onto life, but they demanded it from their surroundings.

'Will you reveal to me your secret? How can you…after all of this time?' she thought, willing herself not to cry from sheer exhaustion. With the Grey Company her spirits would be higher at a time like this; but she wasn't with the Grey Company, she had to keep reminding herself. Those she was with were a dreary lot. In their eyes she could see the need for rest and hope. One obstacle after another had washed away more and more of their strength. Gimli's surety that there would be meals and warm beds for all on the other side of the Wall was just shrugged off.

"Well, here we are at last!" said Gandalf. "Here the Elven-way from Hollin ended. Holly was the token of the people of the land, and they planted it to mark the end of their domain; for the West-door was made chiefly for the use of their traffic with the Lords of Moria. Those were happier days, when there was still close friendship at times between folks of different race, even between Dwarves and Elves."

Gandalf cast a glance in the direction of Arnen who was smirking at his last hinting comment.

"It was not the fault of the Dwarves that the friendship waned," Gimli snorted.

"I have not heard that it was the fault of the Elves," Legolas came back with a curt reply.

"I have heard both," said Gandalf. "But I beg you two, Legolas and Gimli, at least to be friends, and to help me. I need you both. The doors are shut and hidden, and the sooner we find them the better. Night is at hand!"

When the old wizard gave instructions for them to unload Bill, Sam nearly threw himself into the water with all of the fuss he caused. Gandalf finally comforted the hobbit enough that he sat by a bit, sulking as they sorted through the packs he had taken from the pony's back.

"Arnen," Boromir spoke gently, knowing her oncoming response to the rest of his sentence, "you need not carry so much."

"And you, Boromir, should not tell me what I need and need not do."

The woman heard a clearing of a throat and saw Aragorn's eyebrows rise. She peaked her own then returned to gathering all the objects she would bear in her pack. Lifting it onto her shoulders to test the weight, Arnen forced down a hiss at the stinging in her back. Two hands slid the straps from her arms. Turning, she watched as Legolas removed items from her pack. With a sigh, she tried to retrieve it when Merry stepped in her way.

"Ya' need to listen to someone besides Gandalf about what ya' need to do. Now, you need to sit down, and help Sam sort through his pack since he is so melancholy he cannot see through the mist in his eyes."

Arnen smiled warmly at her hobbit companion and did as he said. With gentle prodding and as merry conversation as could be mustered, she not only helped Sam strap of the last of his pots and made the mist leave his eyes. She blocked out the voice of Gandalf and the others, trying to focus on Sam.

"Samwise Gamgee," she said, looking into the hobbits brown eyes, "you have such a large heart. At times I watch you with Frodo and wish that I was capable of facing the many trials that you can."

"I do not know what you are talking about. That sword of yours is amazing; you do not have to worry for anything because you know how to use it right enough," he muttered shyly.

"No, Sam, there is more to fighting than just with weapons. You have something very rare that is the hardest trait to find in any one person."

The hobbit searched her silver-gold orbs, hungry for her next words.

_Crack!_

The two broke their conversation abruptly. The doors were opening! Arnen gawked at the simmering design outlining the door. The anvil and hammer, the stars, the trees bearing crescents, they all tugged at her eyes with their mystique.

"I had only to speak Elvish word for _friend,_" chuckled Gandalf, "and the doors opened. Quite simple. Too simple for a learned lore-master in these suspicious days. Those were happier times. Now let us go!"

Arnen shouldered her lightened pack. One step into through the doorway and she could feel that something was not right. The air was stale, as that of a home left abandoned and locked up for many years. Her eyes could not accustom to the darkness and a growing sense of unease snaked through her stomach as she listened to Gimli brag of his cousin's home and hospitality. Arnen stumbled in the darkness and fell onto a pile blocking her path. At that same moment Gandalf placed a crystal into his staff and lit the space in which they stood.

"This is no mine," said Boromir, "it is a tomb."

Scrambling to her feet, Arnen tried to get stay away from the pile of skeletons she had fallen atop. Her heartbeat threatened to drown out the sound of Gimli's cries of despair. Deep breaths cause her to grow faint, and if it weren't for Frodo's screams she would have collapsed into a heap. Swallowing her nausea, Arnen ran turned back toward the doorway only pausing briefly when she saw the vast monster in the water. A face, hideous beyond compare emerged: fishlike eyes, unblinking and glassy, a mouth that unfolded to extend its reach, yellowing teeth like the tusks of the fabled oliphaunt, and gills that flapped open and shut. Its many tentacles writhed in the churning murkiness, and Frodo was dangling in one of them.

Gandalf reached out and grabbed Arnen by the cloak before she could run out. She tried to push him off and go again, but the wizard held fast.

"Gandalf!" she shouted angrily.

"We do not want another event like the wolves, now do we? You were not too discreet then. I do not believe this will be different," he whispered fiercely in her ear.

She stumbled back in shock.

"That is right. I did not see you though, for if I had you would have heard from me sooner. Instead, Frodo saw that wolf burst into flame. Be warned, if it happens again he may not believe my lie." Gandalf's eyes almost burned with light as he finished scolding.

"Into the mines!" he shouted to the others. Boromir carried Frodo in while the Aragorn and Legolas fend off more attacks while trying to save their own lives. Slimy grey tentacles reached in after them and pulled on the stone of the doorway. With a rumble and a shaking the fellowship was thrown into darkness.

* * *

"Merry?" whispered Pip.

"What?"

"I'm hungry."

Arnen would have laughed if she was not so uncomfortable. They had walked for miles, jumping over gaps in the path, climbing unduly steep stairwells, and edging across slithers of road, guided by Gandalf and Gimli. Her back was stiff from having her share of falls. At one point in their climbs she would have fallen down the steps if Legolas had not caught her hand. She lost the last of her Helwa in the process, but it was not something she would toss and turn over.

Legolas's eyes watched as Arnen pulled her knees to her chest and shivered. Feeling the urge to check on her he nearly stood up, but reminded himself that Aragorn had already made sure she was well. But looking at her face, he could tell that its usual lightness was carved by lines of worry on her forehead. Her lips curled into a grimace instead of the slight smile that he had become accustomed to. When that one ebony lock fell into her eyes she did not brush it away like she usually would. He noticed that she was rubbing the scar above her eyebrow: a sign of uneasiness.

Slowly, Legolas crept to where she sat in a ball.

"Arnen?"

"Yes, Legolas."

"You look sick. Are you alright?"

"Do you want the truth, or the pleasant lie?"

Legolas grinned, "I would rather have the truth, please."

Arnen pulled Legolas in and cupped her hands around his ear. When she finished he couldn't help but chuckle. Arnen pushed the elf's arm, unsuccessfully trying to knock him over. In her frustration she threw herself at him and wrestled to overpower him. The prince quickly overturned her. Arnen found her abdomen beneath Legolas's arm and both his hands pinning her arms to her sides. He let her go when he heard Aragorn whisper a warning, "Legolas…"

The elf straightened up and said, "Forgive me for laughing, Arnen, but there really is no reason to be afraid of skeletons."

"Lower your voice. If Aragorn hears you he will torture me about it to no end. Besides, I am not afraid of skeletons. I just do not care for the unburied dead."

Legolas did not see much of a difference, but decided not to argue with her. "Why?"

"When one passes on, those you love place you in the ground. Seeing someone unburied causes me to think of battles where I have seen entire families killed. There are no loved ones left to bury the dead," Arnen finished with a shaky whimper.

Legolas watched as tears trickled down her cheeks. He could not remember seeing her cry. Reaching out, he swiped his thumb across her skin and hindered the flow. When she leaned into his touch Legolas gently wrapped his arms around her and allowed her to cry into his shoulder.

"The dark likes to reveal a lot about a person doesn't it?" she laughed into his soaked shirt once the tears stopped.

Arnen was unaware of the tender gaze Legolas gave her, of which he was very happy. Smiling into the side of her hair he whispered, "Indeed it does."

Pulling her back so he could wipe her cheeks, Legolas grinned.

"So, you do have a weakness. If this is so then there must be more secrets hidden inside of you."

"Many, in fact. Hopefully, I will be able to conceal them so well no one will know any of my secrets."

"I accept your challenge then."

Arnen blinked, confused. "What challenge?"

"I plan on knowing your secrets. We will start the mark of the ending of your secrets today, January, 13, 3019, and we will go back to the day that I met you, April 12, 2995. This day next year, January 13, 3020, I will know all but ten of your secrets. It will be impossible to know every one of them."

"Careful, Elf, you do not know what you are getting yourself into. It is a dangerous business, trying to learn the secrets of anyone, especially a woman's. "

"If I win I may ask for anything from you that I want, within propriety and reason."

"And if you do not succeed?"

"Then, you may ask for anything from me, within reason, and it will be yours."

"Legolas?" Arnen yawned, crawling onto her bedroll, finally feeling at ease.

"Yes, Arnen."

"Go talk to Gandalf, he is trying to isolate himself again when he knows he likes people almost as old as he is around when he thinks. I am trying to sleep; he is not."

"Sleep well, Arnen."

* * *

"Arnen. Arnen. Arnen, child, wake up," a voice like a gurgling spring called.

Arnen opened her eyes and saw before her a man standing amid the gloom of the mine. She shut her eyes again and opened them once more. He still stood before her. His raiment was silver like moonlight. Hair as black as midnight was held by a leather string at the base of his neck. He was tall, much taller than even Gandalf, and his stance was as strong yet as gentle as E-ngaladh, her tree of refuge, in a windstorm. His eyes were pools of the deepest sapphire.

His hand was extended and Arnen found that she placed her tan palm into his creamy one. The man helped her stand. Arnen wondered why she still had not cried out for Gandalf or Legolas. She could see them talking near the three passages. And yet she did not want to cry out, though she was perplexed by the fact that the two obviously didn't know a stranger was in their midst.

Behind the man Arnen could see a light shining. Slowly, he backed through it, drawing her in with him. A tingling sensation engulfed her body and then it was over. She squinted through the intensity of a light and saw that she was standing in a lush field with an open, clear sky. Mountains towered in the distance. She and the stranger stood by a river, large and clean. Arnen wondered at how she still had not felt any fear.

"Hello, child," the stranger said. "My name is Irmo. The time has come for you to know something very important."

* * *

OK. By the way, Irmo is one of the Valar. He is the master of visions and dreams. 


	16. Chapter 16

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Lord of the Rings, Tolkien does. I only own characters not present in any of his works.

**A/N: **As a reminder, when we last left Arnen she had just been stolen away to a paradise – even though the Fellowship is in the heart of Moria – by a Vala named Irmo, the master of dreams. Let's see what he had to say…

* * *

**Before the Beginning**

The silence of the paradise unnerved Arnen. Standing before one of the figures from stories she was told since childhood did not help either. Irmo looked nothing like she imagined. She thought he would have resembled Elrond or Glorfindel. He was more like a man than an elf. His body was not as lithe as the Elves'.

Stepping closer to him, she looked into his deep eyes. She found herself lost. Searching the blue she could see stars. They soon began to come together in the shape of a woman. Just as Arnen could make out her definite features the picture became an ocean; in its depths she saw a terrible man. His beard flowed as the current and at his side she could see a horn. The pictures changed again and again causing the blues of his iris to dance hypnotically.

Irmo's hand lying on her shoulder drew Arnen from her trance.

"Nay, I will not tell you; I will show you. First, child, I must know, do you remember anything before Aragorn found you?"

Elrond had endeavored to help her many times before. Every time, she would reach into her memory; then she felt something push her out.

Arnen closed her eyes. Hot tears pour down her cheeks as she tried to push back in but was met with the same force. Shaking her head, Arnen opened her eyes.

"I cannot. There is nothing before Rivendell."

Irmo pushed the hair back from her face and placed his hands on her cheeks.

"Close your eyes; picture the river, the tree, the sun in the sky, all on the day that Aragorn found you. Then, do not fight that which pushes. Just allow it to take you."

Arnen closed her eyes again. By Bruinen stretched E-ngaladh and sitting beneath the tree she saw a child. Walking toward her, the woman could feel something pressing against her chest. Instead of fighting it she just fell…and fell…and fell. In fact, Arnen did not touch the ground at all as she suspected she would.

Instead, when she opened her eyes, she saw that she was not beside the Bruinen any longer. A vast, white emptiness is all that met her pupils. Soon though, in the distance she could see something. It drew closer and closer. Scorching pain ripped through her insides. She could almost feel herself being torn limb from limb. Arnen tried to cry out but found she couldn't even open her mouth.

_Whoosh_.

* * *

She finally stopped falling and stood on solid ground. Arnen was at a wedding. There was no sun or moon and yet a great light revealed her surroundings clearly. A large company was standing in lush green grasses before a mighty tree. Its branches were laden with succulent smelling, scarlet flowers. They grazed against the top of her head. Behind the crowd sat a palace, immense and a white that dazzled the eyes. She smiled at the blossom of warmth budding in the depths of her stomach. Arnen was undeniably happy. 

"I will miss your loyalty and service, my child," spoke a gentle voice to her left; "you will always be welcome to return. I am certain that your spouse would not mind."

She turned and saw before her a stunningly beautiful woman. Her hair was silver and her eyes midnight blue. Her skin was pale yet glowed; her cheeks blush. The ears Arnen saw sticking from beneath the woman's crown were pointed unlike Irmo's. She wore a flowing dress, a blue so deep it would swallow the light if its source was not so powerful. Circling her hips was an incredibly jeweled belt. In it were sapphires, diamonds, and pearls. But her crown outshined it completely.

The base was made of thin, intertwining, silver wires. On the front there were three peaks, the middle higher than the other two. They too were crafted by the silver. In the highest peak was a glittering jewel. It was too bright to be a crystal, too dazzling to be a diamond. It was light in solid form.

'Who are you?' Arnen tried to ask, but instead she found herself saying, "My Lady Varda, I will certainly miss your company as well. But we will not be far apart and I will visit you as often as I am able."

'Varda?' Arnen thought. 'What is happening? Why can I not speak, and why did I just call her Varda?'

'Hush, child,' the voice of Irmo invaded her mind. 'These are memories. You are just a bystander. Do not even attempt to alter your past; it is impossible.'

When Arnen refocused on her surroundings she saw before her a man. What a man he was. His physique was lithe and airy though it held a certain amount of firmness to it. Amethyst orbs pierced hers and the heart within her breasts leaped with the intensity of his gaze. The hands that held hers were gentle and strong. His skin was bronze. Braids and intricate knots decorated his light brown hair. About his neck was a golden cord holding a white cape on his shoulders. His entire being was clothed in white and gold robes.

A wide voice shook the skies, "In this union I find favor. May you compliment one another as I have created you to. May you, Mélië (affectionate), assist him in whatever way you can and give him tender care. May you, Alindo (thriver), watch over her, show her love and never leave her. I give both of you the command to remember, above all, where you have placed your loyalty that even the sanctity of this bond must acknowledge.

"Do you, Mélië, come into this union of your own freewill?"

"Yes."

"Do you promise to keep in mind that which I charged you with?"

"I promise."

"And do you, Alindo, come into this union of your own freewill?"

"Yes."

"Do you promise to keep in mind that which I charged you with?"

"I promise."

"Then I give you my blessing as Ilúvatar, the All High."

Light engulfed Alindo and Arnen – who, after a little while, figured out that she was the one Ilúvatar called Mélië – and then the being before her took her in his arms and kissed her. Arnen's insides twisted and danced in response to his affections. Pulling him closer she allowed him to deepen the kiss.

"I love you, my Méla (loving, kind)," he whispered into her ear.

The smoothness of his voice made Arnen shiver.

She spoke into his neck, for he was a head taller than her – he smelled of earth and fragrant burning wood, "I love you, too, Meliseë (lover)."

The sight before her began to fade and another took its place.

* * *

About her was the sound of many voices. They were all singing different songs and yet one song. Arnen rocked to the music. There was joy and happiness to it but also a great sadness that crushed her heart. Looking around she could see bright beings swaying to the music an singing. Then, Arnen realized she was also taking part in the song. Her voice rose and dipped as a bird, rumbled as thunder in an angry sky, danced as light upon water. 

Then, one voice, terrible in its fury, rose up causing a cacophony. Another voice, sweeter and stronger, drowned it out. Twice more this happened. Arnen heard Alindo switch from harmony and join the violent chord along with many other Maiar. His voice continued to go between the two until he finally rested with Melkor's "music". She persisted to sing but turned her head to look at her husband. She saw that his eyes were an odd color; the amethyst had become slightly foggy and the light in his orbs dimmed just a little.

The images before her blurred again.

* * *

Suddenly, Arnen was in a bedroom. The floor was made of polished, misty hued wood. One wall was open with three long steps leading to a veranda garlanded with lush greenery. Pale jade sheets covered the large bed opposite the garden. An armoire and a bookshelf stood beside one wall while another was covered with a beautiful tapestry depicting the union of her and her husband. 

Alindo was pacing the room frantically, fury in each of his steps.

"How can you not see that he is the one we should be following? His power is great enough to contest with that of your precious Ilúvatar!"

"Have you forgotten yourself, Alindo?" Arnen hissed. "Do you not realize he can hear every word that you say? Melkor is just one of his creations. No creation can contest its Creator. No, no I will not follow you down this path, Meliseë. This one you will have to tread alone. Just know that it ends in certain darkness and defeat."

The man turned on her, gripped her shoulders, and slammed her against the wall. The uneven sandstones dug into her back painfully. Flames leapt into her husbands eyes and his bronze face turned dark.

"You fool!" he growled into her face. "Melkor will overtake you and your master. What of those promises you made to me? Have you forgotten them already? Have you forgotten that you promised to follow me wherever I go, to assist me in everything I do? What of that capricious love you swear you hold for me? Was that all a lie?"

Hot tears poured down Arnen's face.

"I love one named Alindo. He was the man I married. He would never raise his voice to me nor speak such blasphemy – much less think it – knowing it would sadden the heart of Ilúvatar. That was my husband." Arnen's voice fell to a whisper, "You are a stranger to me."

Alindo threw her to the ground and Arnen rolled until a leg of the bed jolted her to a stop.

"Very well, when you are dying on the battlefield where the army of Melkor and "the All High" meet just remember that you had your chance for power. And I, I will be standing at the right hand of Lord Melkor, you will see. You will see."

New pictures flashed before her eyes faster and faster. In one, her head was in the lap of Varda as the lady wiped the tears from her face. Another, she was in the land created by the Song, beautiful, wild, and only lit by the stars of Varda. Then, she walked with the Maiar that served Manwë, her confidant Olórin in his grey cloak at her side .

After that, she saw pandemonium as Melkor – now hideous in his form – attacking the dwelling of the Ainur and destroying the Two Lamps Illuin and Ormal shrouding the island in darkness. Before her mind took her to another memory Arnen caught a glimpse of her husband at the right hand of Melkor sneering insanely.

The images slowed in their onslaught and one drew her in slowly. Rich in its texture, a song lifted to the starry sky. After a few minutes, Arnen saw two lights begin to glow in the ground. Brilliant drops of water fell upon the two spots causing them to grow brighter. The song of Yavanna grew in its intensity and as it did two shoots curled up from the dirt. One was shining gold while the other was shimmering silver.

They continued to grow and curl to the sky until their trunks were so big that even Tulkas – the strongest, most athletic Vala – could not wrap his arms around them. Nienna sat beside them weeping and weeping, her tears the brilliant drops of water that nourished the trees. As light emanated from Telperion and Laurelin Arnen felt her eyes begin to burn. Squeezing them tight, she tried to block out the pain but it stayed with her. Just as sudden as it appeared, the fire in her orbs left.

Opening them she found herself looking into a mirror. Her eyes were glowing with the colors of the Two Trees.

"I believe you took a liking to the new fauna outside," Olórin chuckled behind her.

"It is not funny. Even when I take a different form I have these same eyes. I wonder if they will ever return to the original color."

The Maia stood behind his friend, put his hands on her shoulders, and smiled at her reflection. His eyes were grey and kind. "I think it compliments you greatly, Méla."

Another sight pushed its way into Arnen's mind. A burning Valimar – the city where nearly all of the Vanyar and Valar dwelt – was in the background. In the foreground sang a forest green clad Yavanna and a mourning Nienna, kneeling beside the dying Two Trees of Valinor.

Then another memory: she saw about her a terrible battle. She fought off a werewolf as Elves fought beside her and Eönwë, the herald of Manwë, lead the army on to defeat Melkor, who was to be eternally known as Morgoth.

Arnen blinked and another scene was before her. She was sitting at a table of elf lords and ladies in the Halls of Námo, where the slain Elves wait till the End. Her heart grew heavy as they told her of Middle-Earth. She learned from them that Alindo was true to his word. He was at the right hand of Morgoth, until the day he was utterly defeated. Then, her husband hid himself and began to sow seeds of discord and evil in the world of Elves and Men. He would befriend them and then kill them. She learned of the forging of the Rings. She listened to the few who knew of the One.

Again she blinked. She stood in the center of a circle of seated Valar. Arnen was facing a pedal stool raised above the rest. On it sat Varda and to her left was her spouse, Manwë. His robes were blue velvet, matching the incomparable hue of his iris. Shiny black curls were pulled away from his face, unveiling the powerful gaze he set upon her.

"Please, allow me to go into Middle-Earth. I want to help," Arnen pleaded.

"Nay, child," Varda's voice was crisp. "I will not consent and it must be a collaborative agreement amongst us. I will not send you over there. You are too closely related to this issue."

"My Lady, please. He was my husband. I feel that I should have some part in bringing him to justice."

"I agree with Varda, Méle," said Aulë, the Vala of craftsmanship. "You should not take part in this. You would be of better service here in Valinor."

"I mean no disrespect, my Lord, but what can I do here? I am more needed there than anywhere on this island." She turned to Manwë. "Please, I will waste away if I must continue to see the Children slaughtered by him. Call upon Eru. Ask him if it is his will that I be there. You know I would not have brought this matter before you if I thought he would deny me."

A light penetrated the walls of the meeting room. All present went down to their knees, heads bowed in reverence.

"Mélië is justified in what she speaks. I want her to be in Middle-Earth. I allowed the union between she and Antaino to progress, knowing that his heart would turn from both her and I. In my mind I held this moment.

"But when you enter Middle-Earth, there will be terms to which you must agree."

"Anything, my Father."

"First, you must arrive as a child of Men. Second, you must grow and mature just as they do. I want you to understand their reasoning behind going to war. I want you to be among them and not conspicuous for that is the last thing we need in the war. Third, your memory of this place and this life will be taken from you until the perfect time presents itself."

Arnen lifted her head and looked into the light.

"I agree to your terms."

* * *

A hand rested on her shoulder and when she turned around Arnen was back in the silent paradise. But it had a name now; she could remember. It was a field in Valinor where she, Olórin, and the elves that had crossed the Sea would sit and talk about everything they could think of. Then there would be dancing, feasting and singing. Other Maiar would join and when it was all over Arnen could remember falling into a dreamless sleep. 

"Mélië?" Irmo asked, searching her soul with his eyes.

"My Lord…I remember," Arnen murmured, sinking to her knees.

Irmo wrapped her in a comforting hug. "It will all come back to you soon enough, Méla, because I can guarantee there is more. But right now its time to return to Moria. They are calling you, Arnen."

He let go of her shoulders and then everything was dark.

* * *

"Ah! It's that way," Gandalf said almost giddily. 

"He's remembered!" Merry was tired of Pippin's complaints of hunger; they reminded him of his stomach's groans.

"No, but the air does not smell so foul down here. If in doubt, Meriadoc, always follow your nose."

Aragorn smirked and turned to where Legolas sat against a rock. "Get Arnen up. She is probably sound asleep."

"Ai!" The elf jumped to his feet, searching the ground.

"What is it, Legolas?" Aragorn's voice was wary.

"She's gone."

"Gone? You say that as if you don't know where she has gone to."

"Unfortunately, my friend, I do not know where she went."

Aragorn nearly screamed. He searched the ground for any sign of which way she went. Fear choked him when he couldn't find anything. Losing his sister was not apart of the plan for the trip; she was supposed to make it to Lothlórien and then he would be able to somewhat rest knowing she was safe. It wasn't even his idea to allow her to travel with the Fellowship.

Gandalf, seeing the ranger scanning the ground, approached.

"Lost something, Aragorn?"

"Arnen."

"Come again," he feigned deafness.

"That is right, Gandalf. The elf and the man have lost a grown woman," Gimli grumbled, trying to hide his dismay at Arnen's disappearance. "Never mind we have a Dwarf here who is accustomed to searching for clues in the darkness of the earth."

"Alright, Gimli, which way did she go?"

"Well, Elf, I would have to say she went in this direction. I am amazed she did nott trip over anything the way she was dragging her feet."

So Gandalf, feeling it was a little ridiculous to have everyone go in search of Arnen, took Gimli and Legolas with him leaving Boromir and Aragorn with the Hobbits – it should be mentioned that the ever patient Strider did grumble under these arrangements.

"Arnen, Arnen." They went along whispering; what sense would it make to cry out and there may be danger near by, but they felt they had to call.

Legolas's eyes were searching frantically, his ears at their most alert state. A wrenching in his chest made it hard to breathe. The prince took in deep gulps of air attempting to calm himself…the only thing he succeeded in doing was gag on the stale air of the mine. He continued to tell himself that Arnen was alright, that nothing was wrong with her, and that there was no reason for him to feel like his heart was being squeezed of all its life.

He stopped. Standing very still, he listened…. There it was – a grunt. Legolas went in the relative direction of the sound. Stopping again, he willed with all of his might for Arnen to make some other noise. Again, he heard her. Hurrying, he jumped over small chasms and weaved through rubble.

She was sprawled on the ground seemingly unconscious. A cloud of dust rose as he fell to his knees and hugged her against his chest for a moment.

* * *

Arnen could feel something beneath her cheek. It wasn't the cold rock she expected but cloth. When she shifted to bury her head into its dimming fragrance of trees and rain the cloth moved from beneath her cheek. Arnen clutched the fabric and refused to let go when a pair of gentle hands tried to pry her fingers away. She wanted to stay with the scent that reminded her of Yavanna and Valinor. A past she so dearly wanted to go back to at that moment. 

"Home," she sighed into the cloth. Tears slipped down her cheeks as she tried to hold onto the last sweet moments she had with someone from her past, the one who had told her who she was.

Legolas tried to wake her up, but it was no good. Surrendering to her wishes, he cradled her in his arms and took her back to the others. Gimli raised his eyebrows at the sight. Gandalf breathed a sigh of relief.

"You can let her go now, Legolas," Gimli chuckled. "She does not seem to be injured."

"Er, um, I tried to. I really did. But she will not let go," Legolas stuttered, doubly embarrassed because he knew he had nothing to be embarrassed about.

Gandalf looked the young elf in the eye. What he saw made his thought pattern shift for a moment. Shaking his head at himself, the wizard approached the woman in Mirkwood's prince's arms. He pulled up one of her eyelids. The light the gleamed past the skin made him put it down in a hurry.

"Arnen, child, can you hear me?"

The woman, now half-conscious, stirred and whispered, "Olórin, is that you? How did you find me?"

Gandalf's stomach jumped to his throat. He had not heard his proper name spoken in years. Gazing at Arnen he wondered if what his heart told him was occurring was in fact the truth.

"Is she alright, Mithrandir? Has anything happened to her?" Legolas's voice brought the old one back to the present.

"Of course she is alright. She was just sleepwalking."

"Arnen does not sleepwalk."

"How would you know that, Master Elf?"

"She told me."  
A smile crept across Gandalf's face. "And how would she know that?"

Legolas pondered his words and realized his folly. Suddenly, he felt Arnen stirring in his arms.

"Walk with me, Arnen," Gandalf said as the woman looked confusedly from him to Gimli to Legolas, who still held her.

Gently, she was put on her feet. When they got back to the others, Gandalf warned everyone off with a look and took Arnen with him to the front where they began to converse in whispers.

* * *

"You remember everything?" Gandalf asked in wonder. 

"No, Irmo said there is more, but with all that I have remembered I doubt there could possibly be anymore. What I saw could last a lifetime."

"You must remember, child, that your memory starts before the Song, and so before time. You lived through many ages before you came here. Just think, child, you are as old as I am."

"Then, perhaps, you could stop calling me child?" Arnen tried her luck but it failed.

"No. It's all a part of your agreement. You are still a child compared to me while we are here in Middle-Earth, and so I reserve all the rights to call you one. Glaring at me like that is only helping my case…child."

Arnen punched the wizard playfully.

"It is good to have you back, my old friend," he continued; "It lifts a burden from my heart to have someone near me who remembers all of those years; someone whom I know does not look to lean on me for strength but can help me carry the troubles. I see now why Nienna weeps."

"No. You do not know why she weeps until you see your friends leave to fight a battle you are forbidden to take part in."

Gandalf looked at Arnen from the corner of his eye. She may not have been in the glorious state he recalled from Valinor, but she certainly was Mélië in every other way. Her gait was as graceful as a queen's even on the broken ground; her voice was more musical; her eyes held a greater depth; her presence was more commanding. Yes, before him was the friend he had feasted with in the halls of Manwë and Varda. Even in the oppressive darkness of Moria, Gandalf had gladness in his spirit that he had not felt in many years.

* * *

So, you must have put the pieces together as the memories progressed. Now you know her real name and where she's from. If it was a surprise to you, that's great. If it wasn't, oh well I tried to cover it up the best I could. 


	17. Chapter 17

**A/N: **When we left Arnen she had just gotten her memory back; what an extensive memory it was. It turns out that she is a Maia, and that she and Gandalf were the best of friends before he was sent to Middle-Earth.

* * *

**Family**

Legolas took his place at the rear as the Fellowship started their journey again. He could feel the oppression of the stone walls at either side of his body. Reaching out, his calloused fingers traveled over their rough surface, unrelenting at his touch. The sensation sent a deep longing through his being. He longed for light and fresh air and trees. Though for most of his life he had lived in the underground palace of his father, the prince had always had a balance of wood and stone. Now the only oak it seemed he'd ever encounter again would be a petrified column.

The melancholy elf tripped over unseen rubble. Silently, he tumbled, holding in a grunt of shock, closing his eyes against the dust that rose, hoping that Merry would move so he could stand without knocking the hobbit over. Legolas heard a scuffle of feet as he ended the tumble by gracefully standing. Upon opening his eyes he saw Arnen before him.

"Are you well?" the woman whispered faintly, knowing he would hear her. Meanwhile, she tried her best to look him over in the dark of the mines.

He smiled at her attempts. "I swear to you that I shall surely live."

She glared at him icily. Dropping the hand that she was examining for any cuts, Arnen walked toward the rest of the group that was moving slowly so the two of them would not be left behind. She did not appreciate his trifling with her when she was genuinely concerned. Next time, she would remember the fact that the elf thought himself so invincible.

A pair of hands gripped her shoulders, pulling her to a halt. Arnen huffed and tried to pull free, but they held firmly. Turning around she looked at Legolas in frustration. She could just barely make out his features, but it was evident that a smile was spread across his face. Her hands clutched into fists of irritation, but before she could knock the elf in his jaw – regardless of the possibility that he would shake it off and laugh, unhurt – he took her fingers into his hands.

Arnen's annoyance was quickly replaced by a feeling of awkwardness. The ranger fidgeted and looked down at her fingers that were being so gently held by her friend. His touch reminded her of something – a memory that seemed so distant – and she did not like the way it made her feel.

"We must not be left behind by the others," she mumbled.

"Arnen," his voice was as warm as his fingers, "are _you_ well? When I found you, you seemed to be in some sort of delirium. I was not sure if…are you…I am sorry."

Arnen was so preoccupied by his hands that she did not hear him. She asked him with an uncomfortable stammer what he'd said.

"I said that I am sorry."

She chuckled. "Why are you apologizing? Unless you dumped me in that spot and abandoned me – which I know for a fact that you did not – there is no reason for you to feel sorry."

"I did not notice that you were gone. I was awake and I did not even hear you leave. If I had paid more attention, you would not have been placed in danger. I – "

"Legolas," Arnen sighed in exasperation, "There will be many occasions to say 'if only' on this journey. But, if we continue to say it, mellon, we will soon find ourselves unable to look to the future. Then, we will say 'if only I had not dwelt on the past'. What fools we are if we continue to utter those poisonous words: if only."

The prince looked on her with grateful eyes. Arnen smiled at him while she slowly pulled her fingers from his grasp. Through her speech of sorts she had only concentrated on being rid of the peculiar knot in her stomach.

"Then, you forgive me?"

"Gimli is right in asking, 'How can you claim to be an Elf when your people are known for their wisdom?'" Arnen slapped Legolas on the back and walked towards the rest of the group, chuckling once more. Legolas jogged after her. The prince clamped his hand over her mouth and began to tickle her mercilessly. Arnen convulsed with laughter, giggles muted by the firm hand, trying to escape his skilled fingers, tears of mirth spilling down her cheeks.

When he felt that she had enough punishment for her jokes, Legolas released her then strode ahead to follow the rest of the Fellowship. His rumpled female companion soon caught up with him.

"I thought you are not ticklish," he said without glancing at her.

"I am not."

"So back there you just happened to be suddenly seized with laughter, unable to control yourself until I went ahead."

"You were not fair. Somehow you found every spot. Only Aragorn and Halbarad are able to do that."  
"I have a younger sister to thank for years of practice."

"You have a sister," Arnen asked in surprise. She thought Legolas was his father's sole child.

"I have two, in fact. One is my elder, Eruanna (grace). My younger sister is Calimetaure (bright wood)."

"Are there any brothers I should know about?" she chastised gently.

"Do not use that tone with me, Arnen. You never asked me of my family or my life. It is I who should be reprimanding you. A true friend would have inquired sooner."

The woman felt ashamed and said so quietly. Legolas had mercy on her.

"No harm is done to our friendship for your small fault," he said teasingly; "But, to answer your question, I have one elder brother. He is Cenyondo ('see, a son')."

"You are not the heir?"

"Would it make sense for me to be here, in danger of dying at any moment, if I were?"

Seeing that what he said was reasonable she went on, "Then, tell me about your family."

And so Legolas began to acquaint Arnen with his life. He described to her each of his family members so well that she could see them in her mind. She could picture his father's blond hair and piercing, grey eyes. King Thranduil's frame was solid, with evident strength; unlike Legolas's lithe build that belied his power.

Cenyondo was clear to her. His hair was dark and his orbs were a misty grey. By the stories Legolas told her – and the ones he was on the verge of telling her but then thought better of it – the brothers were close and caused much havoc for the king when they were elflings.

Eruanna was the complete opposite of the two. She was levelheaded and wise, like her father. Her eyes were the hue of a clean river and her hair the shade of twilight. What endeared her most to Legolas was that she would exonerate him most of the occasions he found himself in trouble.

The youngest, Calimetaure, was Legolas's favorite sibling. She was full of light and energy, piercing through the darkness of the years. Her hair was blonde and her irises a stormy grey. The elfling was the laughter and the joy of the kingdom.

When Legolas mentioned his mother, Arnen could almost see the lights in his eyes. She was the one who would concoct wild adventures for them as children and encouraged them to explore Mirkwood as they grew. A free spirit, she would often sneak from the city without an escort, riding through the wood, killing spiders, drawing the poison from their bellies to make an antidote for their sting and bite, finding new paradises untouched by the shadows of evil, learning more about the forest she trekked through as a youth. Her skin was fair, her locks dark, and her eyes sweet.

"You love her very much," Arnen whispered. Her voice was choked with tears of shame for she had not thought of Gilraen. Though she knew now that she never had a mother, the woman was her caretaker, and the pain that Arnen felt for her passing was still very real.

Legolas rested his hand on her head gently and stroked her hair.

"You will see her again. One day."

Arnen appreciated his kindness even though he was ignorant of the fact that where the dead of Men stay, the Maiar can not go. Arnen would not see Gilraen again until the history made by the Song of the Ainur reaches its end.


	18. Chapter 18

**Disclaimer:** I do not own anything in the story besides those not seen in any of Tolkien's work. Really, Arnen is my only claim to fame.

**A/N: **This chapter, as many of my previous chapters, will contain text from the book and the movie. I like to put in a mixture of both for the sake of both those who have read the trilogy and those who have seen the movie – I recommend that everyone read the books. During the fight by Balin's tomb, the movie and the book will be much intermingled; don't try to decipher which part came from the movie and which part came from the book, for analyzing it might ruin the sequence for you.

Last chapter, Arnen learned more about Legolas's family. He has two sisters (one elder and one younger) and an elder brother. Two chapters ago – for those of you who do not have it fresh in your minds – Arnen learned that she is a Maia – a sort of angelic figure created by Tolkien. Onward ho!

* * *

**A Darkened Sun**

They had marched as far as the hobbits could endure without rest, and all were thinking of a place where they could sleep, when suddenly the walls to right and left vanished. They seemed to have passed through some sort of arched doorway into a black and empty space. There was a great draught of warmer air behind them, and before them the darkness was cold on their faces. They halted and crowded anxiously together.

Sam wanted to retch for the stench in the air crowded his sense of smell. He had not been aware of it until they came to the open space. His eyes strained to see the ceiling of their new surroundings, but it was beyond his ability.

The gardener murmured, "You have got yourself in quite a fix, Samwise Gamgee. If only I had listened to my Gaffer. 'Don't meddle in the affairs of them wizards, Samwise. They are a mysterious folk and queer nonetheless.' He said I'd be in a fix and that I am. That I am indeed."

Frodo glanced at Sam then put an arm about his shoulders. Smiling encouragingly in the dim light of Gandalf's staff, he tried to cheer his companion.

"Don't worry yourself, Sam. You'll come out of this and you'll be none the worse. I bet you'll be just like Bilbo when you get back to the Shire, telling of your grand adventures."

The young hobbit smiled at the thought. "And you, too, Mr. Frodo."

Frodo's smile faltered.

Sam turned to his friend. "Isn't that right, Mr. Frodo?"

Looking up, Bilbo's nephew said halfheartedly, "Yes, Sam. That's right."

Suddenly, there was a great flash from Gandalf's staff. Now Sam could see that the ceiling above him was beautifully arched. He had not thought of dwarves as artistic beings, nor had he thought that a mine would be so beautiful.

"Behold," Gandalf heralded, "the great realm and dwarf city of Dwarrowdelf."

Sam's mind reached out to the stone cracked pillars and he fancied that he saw them transform. All about torches were posted on the columns, illuminating the hall. Dwarf lords hurried from place to place, comparing plans for new passages to be dug, sharing news of the latest findings of the miners, smoking from their pipes and laughing heartily. The floors were gleaming silver and the roof was shimmering gold, mirroring the dwarves below.

"Now there's an eye opener, and no mistake," he whispered and the vision faded.

Without warning, Gimli darted toward a room lighted by a single sunbeam – there was a shaft allowing sun in. Despite Gandalf's call he entered the chamber, staring in grief at a stone structure in the center. The dwarf fell to his knees, covered his head with his hood, and cried quiet tears.

The Fellowship walked into the chamber, standing silently. Gandalf read the inscription on the tomb, "'Here lies Balin, son of Fundin, Lord of Moria.' He is dead then. It is as I feared."

Arnen breathed in sharply at the name of Balin.

* * *

_She could see herself standing on a terrace on a mountain of greatest height. The snow was everlasting on the slopes of Taniquetil, the mountain where Varda and Manwë dwell. Her arms were bare, but the cold did not bother the Maia. The misty silk of her dress flowed about her ankles as the chill air blew. Dark hair was pulled back with bright clips resembling the stars. Her gold and silver irises were glowing steadily._

_Beside her stood the Lady Varda. The Vala queen wore her raiment of deep midnight; her pale skin shone with the light of Eru. She looked into the wind that played with her hair._

"_Why do you weep, Mélië?"_

_The intensity of the Maia's gaze lessened but she did not turn her head._

"_I do not weep at all, my lady. My cheeks are not wet, nor are my eyes glistening."_

"_No, but your heart whispers of your grief. So, again I ask, why do you weep?" There was silence. "There will be many more deaths and many more battles before the end comes. You must not let your heart be weighed down by each one that passes."_

"_A battle of five armies is commencing as we speak. Men, Elves, and Dwarves – who at first were killing one another – are now fighting an onslaught of goblins and orcs. That is why I weep."_

_Varda drew Moicatue into her arms. She held her gently, feeling warm tears seep through her dress._

"_I know of the battle. But, Méla, Eru will not abandon his children. He even sent the Eagles to assist them. So, do not fear. No terrible harm will come about, for that is not the will of Eru. In that we can take hope."_

* * *

Arnen was shaken from her memory upon the sound of a hollow clattering. Turning to the source of the noise she saw a fearful and guilty looking Pippin standing beside a well. Gandalf stalked toward the hobbit and said fiercely, "Fool of a Took! Throw yourself in next time and rid us of your stupidity!"

The woman giggled. But her heart froze when drums sounded. Wicked cackling could be heard echoing closer and closer. The stone beneath their feet trembled with a resounding _Boom_. Gandalf's countenance went from anger to grimness. She knew he felt responsible for the delay that had, unfortunately, made them open to the enemy.

Looking about the room, Arnen saw a pile of rubble beside a column leading to a higher level. Quickly, she scaled the rock and watched what happened below her. Boromir, Aragorn, and Legolas began to bar the door; she heard Boromir sardonically mention something of a cave-troll. The hobbits trembled behind Gandalf. Their grips were unsure yet white-knuckle tight on their sword hilts. Gimli jumped up, ferocious in his grief and his lust for avenging his slain cousin.

The door shook and began to open as a great force pushed upon it. An arm and a shoulder, monstrous in size with scales of drab green, pushed through the opening. When a foot forced its way through, Frodo cried, "The Shire!" Then, the hobbit leaped and drove Sting into the foot of the beast. The cave-troll roared in pain and withdrew. Boromir quickly shut the door behind it.

Readying herself, Arnen slowly withdrew Maebuian from its simple scabbard. Orcs flooded the room, scurrying like insects over fallen fruit. The ranger saw that the foul creatures were focused upon the men and put her sword at her feet. She downed five orcs in an instant. Their throats were stuck with throwing daggers from her belt.

Deformed faces looked around in bewilderment until they caught sight of Arnen. She picked up her sword, stood at the top of the rubble hill, and waited for her foes. It was not until a split second before the attack that Arnen saw another orc coming at her from the side. The grimy blade sliced across her arm and back as she ducked. Losing her balance, she tumbled down the rubble pile. Orcs that had climbed up to attack her were pushed over. Maebuio was knocked from her hand when she hit the ground. A sharp rock tore into her skin and Arnen was blinded by pain.

Finally, the cave-troll stormed in, swinging a spiked club. Arnen rolled, avoiding the bone shattering blow that the troll aimed at her. The orcs that had come close to strike her scattered to avoid being in the way of the beast's weapon. Again the troll aimed at her. Arnen gathered her strength then rolled. She stood and ducked behind a column before the troll could spot her again. Not seeing his intended prey, it moved on, looking for another.

Arnen frantically scanned the floor for her sword. Seeing it beside the rock she had fallen upon, now flashing with her blood, she ran and slid to it, instantly blocking an orcs stroke from cutting her head off. Ducking and slicing, she cut through her enemies until all that was left in the room for the Fellowship to defeat was the troll. She watched as Merry and Pippin stabbed the beast in its head. An arrow from Legolas in the mouth finished the creature and it fell with a piteous moan. Merry and Pippin were flung against the wall.

Arnen sank to the ground in pain.

"Ilúvatar," she whispered sarcastically, "I know you can hear me. Please, would you consider not letting me get hurt like this in any of the battles? It's getting to be repetitive and it works on my patience. Please."

In her spirit she could feel a little flower of heat blossom. She could almost hear her Father laughing at her humor to even think of asking such a foolish question. It encouraged her and strangely enough gave her strength to stand. A frenzied tug on her arm pulled her focus from inside. She saw Boromir was pulling her along behind the others. When she nearly collapsed, the Gondorian lifted her into his arms and kept running.

"Release me, Boromir!"

"Can you run?" he grunted.

"I am not a child. I will not fall behind. Put…me…down!"

Once indelicately letting her go, he ran by her side, making sure that she did not fall again. Gandalf stayed back a moment to guard the door. The rest of them waited at the end of one of many flights of stairs left to traverse. There was bright flash of light and the wizard came flying down the steps and fell to the ground in the midst of the Company.

"Well, well! That's over! I have done all that I could. But I have met my match, and have nearly been destroyed. But don't stand here! Go on! You will have to do without light for a while: I am rather shaken. Go on! Go on! Where are you, Gimli? Come ahead with me! Keep close behind, all of you!"

They ran down more crumbling stairs, turning neither right nor left, but going straight on. As they went, it began to get hot and a red light – fire – could be seen ahead of them. Heaviness fell on Arnen's heart, but she could not discern what it was.

They came to a low archway, then, a cavernous hall. Their lungs burning from the running that they had done and knew was ahead, the Fellowship hurried to the end of the passage. There gaped a chasm, and across the chasm was the bridge that would lead them out of the mines. Though arrows began to rain upon them, they moved on.

Gimli led the way across the bridge. Next, went Merry; then, Pippin. Sam and Frodo were after those two. Boromir started behind the hobbits and at last Legolas, Arnen, Aragorn, and Gandalf followed. The elf put an arrow to his bow string, stopped at the end of the bridge, and turned to shoot. But, the bow and arrow fell from his hands. Terror marred his features and he cried words that chilled Arnen's bones.

"Ai! ai! A Balrog! A Balrog is come!"

Gimli stared with wide eyes. "Durin's Bane!" he cried, and letting his axe fall he covered his face.

Arnen began to quake. She remembered Fëanor in the Halls of Mandos told her of his battle with the Balrogs in his fight to retrieve his beloved Silmarils. His eyes were haunted when he spoke of their fiery swords and the fear they inflicted upon one's heart just by their presence.

It was like a great shadow. Two massive wings of darkness spread out from its back. It had the body of a man, mammoth and burning. The dark Maia's head was skull like in appearance and two black horns curved around its face. Fire came from its nostrils. In its hands were a whip of flame and a fiery blade.

Boromir blew the horn of Gondor and the true sound of it made the Balrog hesitate….But only for a moment. The demon began to advance once more. That moment was all that was needed by Arnen. She shook herself and went to Gandalf.

"Olórin," she whispered. "Let me help you."

"You are not ready."

"You can not do this alone."

"Méla," he whispered.

Arnen exclaimed, "But you will die!"

Her age old friend turned. "Then, we will see one another when you return to Valinor."

"But-"

"Stay back, child!" Turning to Aragorn, he cried, "Fly! This is a foe beyond any of you. I must hold the narrow way. Fly!"

No one paid attention to the command. They would not leave Gandalf in a time when he might need them the most. Arnen's eyes burned with tears as she reached into her pack. Inside was the sack of crystals Gandalf had given her before their journey had begun. She cradled one in her hands and waited for the precise moment when the spell would be needed.

The Grey Wizard stood firmly on the bridge, hat gone and hair wild.

"Gandalf!" screamed Frodo.

"You cannot pass," he said "I am a servant of the Secret Fire, wielder of the flame of Anor. You cannot pass. The dark fire will not avail you, flame of Udûn. Go back to the Shadow! You cannot pass."

The Balrog brought its sword down upon Gandalf, but Glamdring shone with white light and deflected the blow. Breaking into pieces, the Balrog's sword flew from its hand. The demon jumped onto the bridge with a roar and cracked its whip.

"YOU…SHALL NOT…PASS!" Gandalf proclaimed and brought his staff down upon the bridge, the force breaking the wood in two.

The Balrog snorted and took a step. Then, the bridge fell beneath hiit. In a last attempt to triumph, it swung the whip around its enemy's ankle just as the wizard was turning to join his companions and pulled. Gandalf clung to the edge of the bridge.

"Fly, you fools!" he cried, and let go of his futile grasp.

Arnen looked at where she last saw her friend in horror. The woman dropped to her knees in disbelief. Sorrow surged through Arnen's heart. She was deaf to the world; she did not even hear Frodo's frenzied cries.

"Nooo!"

The cry ripped through her body, tearing at her throat, her heart, her spirit. She gasped for breath and did not notice the humming until it was too late. The crystal she held in her hand burst forth a blinding light that engulfed her. Its force shook the chasm, the rocks, and even threw Legolas – who had run toward Arnen in order to drag her out when she dropped – against the wall.

The woman, eyes glowing from the use of her abilities, stood. Looking behind her, she saw Legolas, Gimli, and Aragorn staring. Only when the arrows of the orcs began to fly did they come out of their trance and run toward the door. Arnen did not immediately follow; no one stopped to get her.

Taking one last look at the broken bridge, she ran outside, not even caring that the day was sunny and bright. Her only true confidant in that strange time in her life was dead, and the friends she had made in the fellowship would undoubtedly question her now. No, the sun held no joy.

* * *

So, everybody is about to find out the truth about Arnen. This is going to get very interesting to say the least. Please review and tell me what you think. 


	19. Chapter 19

**A/N:** I was asked by one of my reviewers what Arnen was planning on doing with the crystal on the bridge. If you go back to the chapter Eavesdropping you will see that once Arnen let go of the crystal or lost her concentration when reciting a spell the crystal would explode. What Arnen was going to do was start a spell then throw the crystal at the Balrog before she finished. Thus, hopefully, the Balrog would die or be wounded enough for Gandalf to finish him. At that point she did not care if the others knew about her powers.

So, now that the secret is out and Gandalf is gone, shall we push forward…

* * *

**Doubts**

_January 15, 3019 T.A._

The sun was high; the sky blue and wonderful. Light washed over the dale, causing the green of the grasses to seem lusher. Large slates of rock were scattered about, ranging from an ashen white to a blue grey. The time was one after the noon hour and the land was serene, though slightly disturbed by the agonized groans of its travelers. Nine companions, weary, pale, and broken, could not feel the warmth of the sun. The gentle wind only reminded them that there was wetness on their cheeks.

Legolas rubbed his shoulder where it had hit the wall of the mine in wonder. In his mind he saw over and over the image of the light engulfing Arnen, her shining eyes. Then, he thought of Gandalf falling into the shadow of the chasm. Her body surrounded by a globe of light bombarded his mind again; then, Gandalf's fingers letting go. The cycle of torture ran about his mind, threatening to drive him to madness with its grief and mystery.

His eyes wandered to where she sat, her knees pulled to her chest, her dark hair pulling loose from its band at her neck, cheeks streaked with tears and dirt, eyes lost. Thinking back to the challenge he made in the mine just a day ago, he laughed bitterly at the irony. She had warned him that he did not want to know all of her secrets. Indeed, she was right.

The elf looked to Aragorn, waiting for his orders. Though his heart cried out to be relieved of its ache, its burden, he knew that they had to move on. Mist blinded him. He blinked several times until the water made its way down his face. A burning lump sat in his throat. Legolas prayed silently for his companion to make his decision quickly.

* * *

Aragorn was on bended knee. One hand held his sword as the other cradled his face. Small sighs escaped from quivering lips; his shoulders shook. The ranger pushed damp hair away from his face and looked to the Mountains of Moria. Anor could be seen progressing across the sky. Slowly, he stood. About him the others were heavy with grief. Hating to do so, but knowing he must, he spoke.

"Legolas, get them up."

"Give them a moment, for pity's sake!" Boromir cried. "He's gone, and unnecessarily." The angry man turned on Arnen.

"Why did she not help him? In fact, how do we know she did not help that creature bring about his doom?" Boromir stalked to the woman. "She hid this from us; what else is there you hide, Arnen?"

Arnen abruptly stood. She watched Boromir stagger back at the intense glow pulsing from her orbs. Casting her gaze on the others she saw the suspicion, hurt, and fear in their faces. She knew she was no longer wanted. Bowing her head, she pulled up the cloak hood then covered her nose and mouth with the face mask. The maia turned toward the wood in the distance.

Aragorn said quickly, "Let us gird ourselves and weep no more! Come! We have a long road, and much to do."

While everyone got to their feet Aragorn ran to his sister.

"Arnen, wait," he pleaded, placing his hand on her shoulder. When she shook it off, he grabbed her and jerked her around.

"I said wait! Look at me! I do not know what it was that happened in the mines; I do know that it is no fault of yours that Gandalf is lost to us. I know that he and Elrond must have known about your…abilities before sending you with us. I know that if I had known about your abilities that day beside the river, I would have still taken you with me to Rivendell and naneth would have still adopted you."

Arnen pulled down the face mask. Her eyes bored into her brother's. She smiled dryly.

"No, Aragorn, you would not have even touched me. Instead, you would have fetched Elrond so he would decide what to do with me. Do not shake your head. I know you well, dear brother, and I know that you would have felt that where I was concerned, everything was above your knowledge."

Aragorn opened his mouth, but Arnen laid a finger against his lips.

"You are only human, Estel. I will lose no love for you because of that."

"And you," Aragorn whispered, "are you human as well?"

Arnen thought of telling him the truth. She so longed to share the secret with her brother.

'Do not breathe a word of this to him, Méla.' She could hear Irmo say.

'My lord, he should know. What good would come of not telling him?'

'There is a time for everything. You will not tell him, Méla, for if you do you will be called back and will never return to Middle-Earth.'

Arnen rubbed the scar above her eyebrow. She hated to lie to the man before her; he had been there for her whenever possible and he loved her dearly. Sadness crept into her eyes even when she realized what she was going to say wasn't a lie.

"I promise you that I am flesh and blood."

* * *

Everyone stole quick glances at Arnen. Aragorn had said she would come with them. What they saw in the mines did not change that. None questioned him; the spark in his eyes when he saw the objections rising silenced them all. Frodo was the only one who would watch her for long intervals before focusing on his feet again. She had removed the mask from her face but the grey hood was still raised. He wondered at the fact that her cloak was not torn after all the occurrences in Moria. It still looked as fresh as when he first saw it at Rivendell – an age ago.

"What are you thinking, Frodo Baggins?"

Startled by her voice, he looked up only to see her still facing forward. Focusing on where he was walking, the hobbit replied, "Should I fear you?"

"That is for you to decide, Frodo, not for me to tell you. Fear is an odd emotion. No matter if I tell you there is no reason to fear me you will regardless."

"So I should not fear you."

"Nay, you will not put hidden meanings with my words. I believe that your wisdom concerning judging character is far beyond your years. Whatever your initial feelings toward me were, trust those."

For some time after that, the Fellowship traveled in silence. They had all listened to the transaction between the woman and the hobbit. Each thought back to their experiences with her, hoping that they did not have to distrust their feeling of companionship toward Arnen.

The sun began to travel further and further toward his port. Ahead, there was a shimmering, as if the sunlight were casting its golden light upon a mirror.

"There lie the woods of Lothlórien!" said Legolas. "That is the fairest of all the dwellings of my people. There are no trees like the trees of that land. For in the autumn their leaves fall not, but turn to gold. Not till the spring comes and the new green comes do they fall, and then the boughs are laden with yellow glowers; and the floor of the wood is golden, and golden is the roof, and its pillars are of silver, for the bark of the trees is smooth and grey. So still our songs in Mirkwood say. My heart would be glad if I were beneath the eaves of that wood, and it were springtime."

* * *

I will end it here. 


	20. Chapter 20

**A/N:** This chapter is hot off the press. I know I haven't written anything in over a year, but I revised all of my chapters and added this new one. Enjoy.

* * *

**A Safe Place**

It was not until night fell that the Fellowship arrived at Lothlórien. They could barely make out the wood's borders as they stood before it for the moon had not yet graced the land with light and though the stars were bright their gleam was not sufficient. The ancient trees reached for the heavens. Grey stems bore golden leaves and in seeing them Arnen smiled. Their color reminded her of Telperion and Laurelin, the trees that branded her irises two ages ago. The Company pressed forward through the forest and through their weariness, seeking a place for rest.

"I believe tonight it would be safest for us to leave the ground and sleep in the trees. Evil will not lurk too high," Aragorn mused aloud.

Stroking one of the tree trunks, Legolas said, "I will climb up. I am at home among the trees, by root or by bough, though these trees are of a kind strange to me, save as a name in a song. Mellyrn they are called, and are those that bear the yellow blossom, but I have never climbed in one. I will see now what is their shape and way of growth."

"That is all well and good for you," griped Pippin; "but I am not an elf or a bird. Trees are no place for a hobbit to sleep. It just is not natural."

Legolas smiled kindly at his irritated companion. Nimbly, he jumped and caught a low hanging branch of the tree. Just as he began to swing himself up higher, a voice sounded from among the branches.

"Daro!" it commanded.

Legolas let go of the branch immediately and shrunk against the tree trunk.

"Stand still! Do not move or speak!" he whispered to them. There was fear in his voice for he was not certain if the one who commanded him to stop was friend or foe.

Arnen listened intently as Legolas and whoever was above him transacted in the Silvan dialect of Sindarin. She had not heard it often during her stay in Rivendell or her time with the Grey Company, but Elrond had thought it necessary for her to know some of it. That night she silently thanked him for his stubbornness in the matter, because the short conversation she heard lightened her heart greatly. Above them were Elven watchmen that meant them no harm. A ladder was sent down for Legolas and Frodo – though Sam, of course, also climbed up – while the rest were told to wait at the bottom of the tree. Pippin scooted closer to Arnen's side as the conversation above their heads drew on.

"Do you think they will let us keep going?" he asked.

"I do not doubt it, Pip. Legolas will take care of everything. He may be an infuriating elf, but he has a good head on his shoulders. Look, he is climbing down now."

Legolas turned to them and relayed his discussion with Haldir, the elf watchman that had stopped him in mid-climb.

"Tonight, the hobbits will sleep in the flet from which I just climbed. The rest of us will stay in a flet of a neighboring tree."

Quickly, Aragorn hid their belongings in a deep drift of leaves as Merry and Pippin joined Sam and Frodo. The young Took grumbled as he climbed.

"It just is not natural, I tell you."

* * *

Arnen followed behind Aragorn as they climbed the grey rope ladder let down for the rest of them. Her curious eyes scanned the flet before she stepped foot on it. It was simply a wooden platform nestled among the stems at the top of the tree. A hole was in the middle of it through which the ladder was. Taking the extended hand of her brother, Arnen pulled herself onto the talan, as it was called by the Elves. Gratefully accepting the food and drink handed to her by the watchmen, Arnen separated herself from the others as much as she could then quickly ate. Every one of them kept to their thoughts. After a silent meal, they all dropped off to sleep except for Legolas and Arnen.

The prince of Mirkwood watched her as she looked down to the forest floor. He marveled at how her eyes shimmered in the darkness. When she looked up, Legolas did not turn away from her blazing gaze. It frightened him, what he saw then and what he saw within Moria, but he did not allow that fear which he held inside to bear down upon him. Slowly, trying not to wake his companions, he eased his way over to her. Arnen neither told him to stop nor gave any indication that she wanted him to. It did not take long for him to reach the other side of the flet, where she sat. They both waited there in silence.

Arnen looked down to the forest floor. Legolas was surprised and slightly startled when she began to speak.

"For years and years I have held this secret. I would always hear from Gandalf and Elrond, 'You are never to tell anyone. Never!' So, I never did."

Legolas heard her sniff and watched as she wiped tears from her eyes.

"When I traveled with the Grey Company, how I desired to tell them my secret. These were men that I fought beside. I entrusted my life to them and they did the same with me. Each of them was my brother and they swore to protect me against any harm or danger. They should have known. I wish I had been able to tell them.

"You all were never supposed to find out this way," Arnen explained, looking up at Legolas. "I do not know how Gandalf…how Gandalf…how Gandalf planned for it to be. I do know that I was to come here for something. But now I am so lost. He was supposed to tell me what to do next. What am I to do next?"

At that moment Arnen lost her composure. Hesitantly, Legolas reached out and drew her to his chest. There her sobs were muffled and none of the Company stirred. Quietly he hummed to her a lullaby he learned as a child, rocking her gently, smoothing her dark hair. A sweet wind from the west caused the maiden in his arms to shiver with cold, but Legolas also sensed that calm settled upon her.

"Legolas?" her voice was quiet. She took his hands and firmly looked into his eyes.

The elf was mesmerized by her irises. "Yes, Arnen?"

"Do you fear me?"

Her question took him by surprise. Fervently, he replied, "No, Arnen. No. You are my dear friend. I do not fear you. Certainly, what occurred today frightened me. I am confused by it. However, I do not fear you." Then, he added with a chuckle, "But, I will be more careful about making you angry."

Arnen smiled at him with gratitude. Hugging him tightly, she felt assured that she need not fear being alone. She had her brother, who, though he did not understand her, stood beside her and still loved her. She also had Legolas, who had turned out to be one of the truest friends she had ever had. In her darkest time, she had found some hope that there was hope.


End file.
